


Symphony of a Family

by TenjounoTora



Series: Growing up Tracy [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Mother's Death, wee tracys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 88,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenjounoTora/pseuds/TenjounoTora
Summary: Growing up isn't easy. For Virgil Tracy, it's one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. Luckily he has his family around him to help.





	1. Movement I: Contento

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: This is a mix of TAG and TOS. Also, did a bit of editing on it after a wonderful comment. No big changes, just some tweaks.

He was born on August fifteenth, at four o seven in the afternoon. He was ten pounds and five ounces in weight and eighteen inches long. Not quite as long as his two older brothers had been, but at least two pounds heavier. He was the third of their planned four children. His hair was black as night, and his eyes just as dark. He was named Virgil Grissom Tracy to follow in the pattern of his two older brothers, and his entire family adored him. 

His development as a baby and toddler worried his parents a little because they were later than the two before him, and even his younger brothers when they came along. He started sitting on his own at seven months and rolling over at eight. He didn’t stand until almost twelve months, and then walking was late during his fourteenth month. He didn’t even say his first word until he was sixteen months along. 

By the time he was two, he loved his blocks and crayons. The more colorful the toy the more interested he was in it. He still didn’t talk much—Scott did most of that for him, but when big brother wasn’t around to do his talking for him he would try to mimic the songs his mother sang to him. Often getting the words, intonation, or rhythm wrong, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so they just let him be.

 

* * *

 

“Alright you four.” Their mother had her hands on her hips as she looked down at her sons. “Scott, I’m counting on you to help me watch your brothers—especially Gordon.” 

Virgil looked up at his eldest brother. He was holding onto John’s hand, while Virgil had been told to hold onto Gordon’s. This was a difficult task, partially because his other hand was full of paper and crayons, but also because Gordon always wanted to go in the opposite direction that he wanted to. 

He was pulling on his hand already, trying to pull it free of Virgil’s tight grasp. He had to keep it tight because even though Gordon was only two he was strong. 

“Gordon, you want to go walk around with me?” Scott was squatting down next to them, his hands held out. Gordon went to him immediately and Scott took his hand and led him down a row of tables. 

Virgil watched the two as they disappeared into the crowd that was slowly growing. He wished he was like Scott and could handle Gordon like he did. Gordon listened to everything Scott said without question. Gordon never listened to him—even though they spent most of the day together. Gordon saw Virgil only as a plaything, just another of his toys. 

Virgil didn’t hold it against him. He was just a kid after all. He didn’t know better, and he was fun to play with. He just hoped he would settle down as he got older, him and John weren’t that hyper. Virgil looked over at John but he had disappeared. 

“Daydreaming like always.” His mother was smiling down at him and ruffled his hair a little. “Go sit in the grass with John and play with what you brought.” She was pointing to some trees a little ways away.

Virgil looked over and John was already sitting against a tree, his small backpack on his lap pulling out the first of the stack of books he had brought. Virgil made his way over and flopped down on the grass near him, letting his supplies topple from his hands onto the ground. 

“Here.” 

Virgil looked up and John was holding one of his picture books out to him. 

“I’m gonna draw.” Virgil frowned

“You need something to draw on don’t you?” 

Virgil looked down and realized that he had forgotten the piece of board he usually brought with him to draw on. “Thanks.” He took the book and tucked most of the loose pieces of paper in it, and laying one on top. 

“I’ll want it back later, but I have another one you can use.” John smiled as he laid his bag next to him and settled himself down to start his first book. 

Virgil liked John. He was quiet like himself, and never minded loaning him his books—regardless as to why Virgil needed them. John was nothing like Gordon and Virgil sometimes thought it would be nice to share a room with John instead of having one to himself. 

Virgil set his crayons up before him, his legs stretched out on either side of his paper. He looked up at the scene in front him. He wasn’t entirely sure why they were there, his mom didn’t seem entirely happy to be there either, but they had come anyways. She was standing behind a table that had bags of stuff laying on it—it looked like bags of white french-fries. People would come by and take some of the bags and then leave after talking for a little. 

“Lucille Tracy, it has been much too long!” It was an older woman, older than his gran even. “How is the family?” 

“Oh, we’re doing fine.” 

“Are those two of your boys there?” She was pointing to Virgil who just tilted his head. 

“Yes, John and Virgil.” 

“They are getting quite big. How old are they now?” 

“John is four and Virgil is three.” 

“Oh, I thought John was older than that, is he just looking at the pictures in his little books?” 

“Oh, no. He’s a reader. Started learning a few months ago and hasn’t put a book down yet.” His mother smiled as she looked back at them. 

“How about Virgil? You think he’ll be a reader like his big brother?” 

“Maybe. He likes to draw though. I'm always having to buy him a new box of crayons. He goes through them like crazy.” 

That reminded Virgil, he needed more. He looked at the box propped up in front of him and half of the colors were so short he couldn’t even see them. 

He ignored the rest of what the woman was saying and dug into his box in search of one of his brown crayons. 

 

He was almost done with his picture—it was of the tree they were sitting next to, when Gordon came running past knocking his crayons over. 

“Gordon!” Virgil pushed himself up off his stomach a little. 

“Play!” Gordon ran around the tree and then flopped on top of Virgil. “Play!” 

“I don’t want to play right now, Gordon.” Virgil sighed as he reached to try and collect the few crayons that had been scattered. “Get off.” 

“Play, Birgil!” He was now straddling him and hitting him on the back. 

“Gordon, get off your brother.” His mother was there pulling the hyperactive boy off of him and holding him against her hip. 

“I wanna play.”

“You’ve been playing with Scott for the past hour. Let him wander and see some of his friends.” 

Virgil sat up and packed his crayons away—they weren’t safe with Gordon on the loose. He looked over to where John had been to give him his book—and see if he would protect him from the menace, but the red head wasn’t there anymore. He looked around to see where he had disappeared to, but didn’t see him anywhere. 

He turned to ask his mom where John was, but she had turned back to the table—talking to another woman, Gordon still on her hip but his attention on the woman their mother was talking to. 

“Yes, this is the youngest.” She was smiling, though struggling to keep Gordon in her grasps. “No, no more kids for us. Four is enough.” 

Frowning he turned around again looking for his brother. That was when he heard it. Music. It was quiet, but it was very pretty. He looked around, but the park was crowded with other tables filled with stuff and people wandering around. There was nowhere obvious that the music was coming from.

There was one building nearby, though, next to the park. Virgil didn’t know what the building was, but it had a steep roof, and a set of double doors in the front that were wide open. The sound he had heard was coming from that building. He looked back at his mom, he knew he wasn’t supposed to wander too far away but he wanted to see what was making that pretty music. 

He knew where she was, sure that he would be able to make his way back, so he made his way across the green grass to the small building and peeked into the door. There were a few people in the large room, and their voices echoed off of the ceiling. There was also an instrument playing. He had seen people play it on TV, but had never seen one in person. He stayed by the door and listened. He didn’t understand what they were singing, but he enjoyed it. 

Virgil looked back toward where his mom was and she was still talking to the same woman, so he slipped past the door once the people had left. He walked up the center isle looking around the room. There were benches all up through the room and a big cross at the front. The windows were full of color and he couldn’t help but stare at them as he passed. 

He reached the front of the room and made a beeline for the piano off to the side. It took him a few tries to get up on the bench, but soon he was sitting in front of a long row of black and white keys. He reached forward and hesitantly pushed down on one of the keys. The sound was weak and didn’t echo as much as it had when the other person had been playing it, so he hit the key a little harder and the note echoed loud and clear. 

Virgil couldn’t help but bounce and clap his hands in excitement. He hit another key and the smile widened on his face. He then reached up with both hands and hit two keys, but the sound that came out made him cringe. He moved one finger down and tried again, better. 

He continued to hit random keys, and even sang a little as he he did. The notes didn’t match, the words didn’t make much sense, but he was have so much fun, he didn’t realize that the people who had been singing before had come back into the room and were watching him. 

He really wasn’t sure how long he played with the piano, but he was so intent with what he was doing he didn’t even notice his mom until she sat down next to him. He jumped then and tucked his hands under his arms; afraid she was going to scold him for touching the big toy. 

She just smiled down at him and poked one of the keys herself playing out a small melody. “You looked like you were having fun.” 

“Yeah!” Virgil smiled and slowly reached forward and tried to mimic his mother’s movements. “It makes sounds like you.” 

His mother couldn’t help but laugh at his comparison of her singing to the piano. “If we got you one, would you play with it?” 

Virgil’s eyes got wide as he looked up at his mother. “Yes! Can we? Can we really?” 

“We’ll have to wait till your father get’s home, but I’ll see what we can do.” 

 

* * *

 

It was almost fall, the air outside was getting cooler—the heat of the summer just a shadow of a memory. His father had been gone for a few months, training for his next mission into space—to the dark side of the moon, but was back for a week before he would actually leave on his mission. 

His parents were in the living room, his father having just arrived earlier in the day. His mother was sitting on the arm of the chair, leaning over hugging him and he had his hand on her stomach. 

“A piano? Why do we need a piano?” His father was in his favorite chair—a recliner made of worn out leather, the arms dull with use. 

“For Virgil.” His mother sighed as she straightened up. 

Virgil had faith in his mother, though he also knew how stubborn his father could be. 

“Oh, here we go.” His father rolled his eyes as he continued to rub her stomach. “Two years ago you tried to convince me that Scott needed a trumpet. Last year it was John and a violin. Now you want a piano for Virgil? Next it will be a trombone for Gordon, and then a… a cello for this one.” He lightly patted his mom’s stomach before finally letting his hand fall away. 

His mother stood up and started to pace a little. “I admit I just wanted to have something in common with Scott. He doesn’t quite have the musical ability—too technically minded. John has the ability, his singing voice is wonderful when he sings, but he’s just not interested.” She sighed deeply and frowned. “But, Virgil.” Her eyes brightened and she flashed a smile at his father. “I was helping with the charity bazaar this past summer, you know the one.” 

“The one you hate, but are bullied into every year?” 

“It’s not that I hate it, but I just have a hard time finding anyone to watch the boys, and I’d like to see you keep track of four boys when you’re tying to do other things.” She frowned at him, but shook her head, not letting him distract her. “I had let Scott go off because some of his friends were there. I had Gordon on my hip, and John and Virgil were behind me doing their own thing. I turned around and both John and Virgil were gone!” 

“Oh, a plot twist.” His father chuckled as he leaned back in his chair and started rocking listening to the story. 

“Jeff.” 

“They’re here, and they’re safe, so nothing bad happened. Go on.” 

His mother sighed. “I called out for them, and John popped out from behind a nearby tree. Gordon was annoying him so he had found a place nearby to hide. I called out for Virgil, but he did not show up. His crayons were laying where he had last been, but there was no sign of him.” 

“So, of course you started to panic.” 

“Of course!” She plopped down on the couch, her own hand on her slightly protruding stomach. “I had John take Gordon and made him promise not to let him go, and got Mrs. Henderson to watch them while I went looking. I walked all over that stupid place. Found Scott and got him to help.” 

“How long was he missing for?” 

“I don’t know. I had started crying so maybe over a half-hour? Scott, the dear, was hugging me and telling me it would be okay. It was about then that Mrs. Worthren came over and told me she had found him.” 

“Well, don’t leave me hanging.” 

“Well, you know that church next to the park. The choir was practicing and had taken a break, but when they went to start practicing again they found Virgil. One of the members came out to the park to see if anyone was missing a little boy and Mrs. Worthren claimed him for me.” 

“What was Virgil doing in a church?” 

“He had heard the music and was drawn by it. You know how much he loves to listen to music.” 

“All the boys do. Doesn’t mean they need to learn to play it.” 

“Jeff, I’m not done.” She gave him a narrowed glance before continuing on. “They had left him be and brought me to the church. Virgil was sitting at the piano playing.” 

“Playing what?” 

“Well, nothing in particular. He was singing some of those nursery rhymes and other songs I sing to him like he likes to do, and hitting the keys a bit.” 

“Oh. Well, then. The answer is still no.” 

“Come on, Jeff. I promise this time it’s real. He wants to learn to play.” 

“Lucy, we are stretched thin as it is, and now that we are having another kid—I’m just not sure where the money would come from.” 

“They have their collage funds. We could take a little out of Virgil’s.” 

“We promised not to touch those for any reason.” 

Virgil had been sitting in the hall just outside of the living room listening to his parents. His hopes were being diminished with every no that his father let out. He leaned against the wall and thought. There had to be some way of convincing his father to let him have that big toy. Then he remembered his rainbow toy. It made pretty sounds too, but not near as nice as the big toy he had played with. 

Virgil frowned though, where had he left the toy? He popped up from his seat and headed up the stairs and made his way to John and Scott’s room. 

The door was open and John was alone in the room—sitting on his bed and reading a book like always. 

“Hey, what’s up?” John laid down his book—it was a bigger one with a lot more words than his other books—and looked over at Virgil.

“Have you seen my rainbow toy?” Virgil was looking around the room himself, but didn’t see it off hand. 

“In the closet. You hid it there to keep it away from Gordon.” John smiled a little, and pulled himself up onto his knees. “You’re not gonna play it now are you?” 

“I’m going downstairs.” Virgil’s voice was muffled in the closet as he dug under the fallen clothes. 

“Oh, that’s okay then.” John flopped back onto the bed and picked his book up again. 

There was a little tinkling as Virgil pulled out the small xylophone. “Found it!” He then stood and left the room running back down stairs to stand by the wall just out of sight of his parents. 

 “You are being quite stubborn.” His mother was still on the couch, leaning back into it. She almost looked like she was about to give up. 

“I just don’t see the necessity. He can learn to play once he gets into school, plus being able to play the piano isn’t going to help his chances in getting into a good school.” 

“That is where I disagree. There’s nothing saying that all of our children are going to be science geniuses. Virgil might be the one whose career is in the arts. He could grow up to play in orchestras, or compose music. He may be the next pop or rock star.” 

“And I’ve told you how I feel about that.” 

“So, the fact that I’ve been doing research about the impact of music on young children means absolutely nothing to you.” 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“It’s what you meant.” 

“Lucy, we’ve been through this.” His father had stopped rocking his hand up on his face. 

Virgil bit his lip. His father’s mind seemed to have been made up. He wasn’t sure there was any hope left, but he at least had to give it a try. 

He placed his rainbow toy on his lap and picked up the plastic mallet. He had to sit and think for a moment, decide what song he wanted to play but once he had decided he let the mallet fall on the blue and started singing one of his favorite songs. 

“What is that?” His father had been in the middle of another argument when the sounds of the xylophone had reached him. 

“That’s what I was telling you about.” His mother’s voice had a smile to it, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile in return, though it didn’t last long as he concentrated on what he was doing. 

He didn’t know know the notes, wasn’t even sure of all the words. But he hit the colors and sang as best as he could.

“Virgil. Come on out.” The house seemed void of all sounds as Virgil stood up and walked into the living room. 

He was holding the xylophone by the mallet which was still connected to the rest of the toy and it dragged behind him. “Yes, sir.” Virgil was a little afraid of his father. It wasn’t that he was mean to him or anything. It was just that he was gone a lot and every time he came back, he seemed like a stranger to him. 

“Virgil, do you want to learn music?” His father gestured to the instrument dangling next to him. 

Virgil didn’t voice his answer, but just nodded his head, tightening his grip on the piece of plastic

“Do you want a piano?” 

Virgil nodded his head; his grip was starting to feel wet. 

“Why?” 

Virgil stood for a moment, watching his father and trying to catch his mother’s eye to help him, but the room remained silent, waiting for him to answer. He finally took a deep breath and looked up at his father. “I want to make pretty music.” 

“You already make pretty pictures.” 

“But you can’t hear the music.” 

“You’re pictures make sounds?” His father seemed to freeze for a moment before leaning forward a bit. 

“No.” Virgil couldn’t help the bubble of laughter as it escaped. “I make music in my head to go with them.” 

“Ah, and you want us to hear the music you make?” 

Virgil nodded his eyes steady on his father.

“Why can’t you make your music on your rainbow toy?” 

Virgil frowned and looked down at the xylophone. He guessed he could make the music on it, but he knew it wouldn’t be as good. He looked over at his mother who was watching him, her eyebrows raised as well. “No.” Virgil closed his eyes and shook his head. “I want a piano.” 

“Well, it looks like you two have a few things to talk about.” She stood up and stretched her back a little looking out of the window—her smile widened. “Scott’s coming down the lane with Gordon on his back. Good, he needed a good wearing out.” She disappeared from the room, leaving Virgil alone with his dad. 

“Come here, Virgil.” His father was leaning forward, his arms held wide. 

Virgil hesitated for a moment, but then walked into the open arms, allowing his father to pick him up and set him on his knee. 

“So, you want a piano so that you can make the music that goes with your pictures?” 

Virgil nodded, still hesitant and afraid his father was going to say no. 

“You remember that picture you gave me last time I was home? The one of the horse in the field?” They were rocking a little, his father’s chair squeaking each time he pushed it back. “What music goes with that picture?” 

Virgil looked up into the air, thinking for a moment. He used the sound of the steady squeaks of the chair and then started to hum. 

His song didn’t actually stay with the rhythm of the chair, nor did it make much sense. His father did hear faint hints of the songs he knew his wife sang to their sons, though, and maybe that was what finally did it. 

This was music, even if it wasn’t anything that could stand on its own. It was his son’s own music and if that was what he liked—he sighed and shook his head a little causing Virgil to stop and stiffen up. 

He pulled Virgil close and hugged him tightly. “You do know that whatever you end up doing in life, I’ll be proud of you, right?” 

Virgil wasn’t sure he understood what his father meant, but he nodded anyways, hoping the agreement would help his cause. 

His father sighed again and started to rock a little faster. “Well, I guess I’m going to go buy you a piano this week.” 

Virgil popped up, almost cracking his father in the chin with his head. 

His father leaned over and kissed his forehead and then pulled him even closer. “Sing me some more of your music.” 

Virgil relaxed into his father’s arms, finally warming up to him again and started humming, thinking about all the pictures he had drawn while his father had been away. 

 

* * *

 

The piano had arrived with a lot of fuss and griping. Things had to be moved around to make room for it, and the older brothers had their complaints about the prospects of such a large instrument in the house. However, Virgil couldn’t wait to try it and had crawled up on the bench before the tuner could get the instrument in tune after it’s long journey. 

His mother had volunteered to teach him—it would save money from hiring a teacher. She would sit on the bench with Virgil in her lap and play for him. Letting him try to play as she did. This wasn’t the most pleasant of noises but any complaints were silenced quickly. 

Virgil quickly got bored with this, and preferred to sit next to his mother and play his own music—acting like he was reading some of the music his mother had pulled and sat before her on the piano. 

It wasn’t long until Virgil wanted to know how to read the music as well. His mother was hesitant, wanted him to explore the notes themselves a bit more, but Virgil was persistent and had even tried to match the notes to the dots on the page himself. 

Giving in, his mother purchased some beginners music for him to learn off of. The music had the letters of the notes written in them, but she didn’t try to make him memorize anything, she just played a note and pointed to the corresponding one on the page. 

It probably took a good month or two, but by John’s birthday Virgil was playing off one of these sheets of music. He had insisted on playing for John’s birthday so as the cake was brought out, Virgil started playing. 

It was slow—he was still only playing with one finger at a time. And he was still playing even after the cake was out and siting on the table—he could hear Gordon complaining behind him, ready to dive into it, but his mother held him back and let Virgil finish. 

In all it was more of a funeral dirge than a birthday song, but Virgil was proud and John even congratulated him on it, which made it even better. 

 Time passed as their father was camped out on the far side of the moon doing whatever it was he did there. Virgil had learned a lot in the few months since he had gotten his piano—his mother beamed at him every time he sat down to practice which made him want to try even harder. 

He was sitting at his piano, his feet dangling from the bench. The room chilly; the cold January air penetrated the small living room. He was wearing a sweater and thick socks, but a chill still made its way up his spine. The keys beneath his fingers were like ice, but that wasn’t going to stop him. 

“Virgil, are you warm enough?” His mother was behind him, a blanket in her hand, and was already trying to wrap it around him. 

“Mom, I need to practice.” Virgil pushed the blanket away and went back to his music. He was using his whole hand now, all the finger that is, though it was hard to do and took a lot of concentration. 

He had also picked a difficult piece—something someone his age probably wouldn’t have ever chosen. He had heard his mother play it though, and wanted to play it as well. He also wanted something he thought would impress his father—show him just how good he was becoming, so he had begged his mother to buy it. 

Still it was a learners’ version at least. Slowly he looked from his fingers to the music and back. Both hands were hovering over the keyboard, but it was the right hand that started. E, he looked up again, D#, again a glance to the music, E, and again, D#, again, E, almost there, B, just a few more, D, and finally C. Then a double A with both hands, high and low—though it took him a moment to find the two keys he needed, messing up twice before he found it. His left took over for two more slow hesitant notes and then his right for three. Then again, both hands, B and E. He continued on with his right hand and then his left, occasionally both on a cord. Hesitantly, the melody of Fur Elise floated—slowly and disconjointedly—through the house. 

“Mom, does he have to keep playing that?” John looked up from his book, cocooned in his own layer of blankets.

“He wants it to be perfect for your father.” Their mother sighed. It wasn’t the first time the complaint was voiced. She cradled her growing belly for a moment before walking over and gathering more pillows and blankets from the pile that had been brought down from the bedrooms. 

“When will the heat be fixed?” Scott walked into the room with a soon to be three-year-old Gordon trailing behind him, dragging a stuffed squid, yawning.

“They said they would send someone first thing in the morning.” Their mother piled up some pillows on the other side of the couch, ready for Scott and Gordon to settle down. 

“Don’t they know there are kids here?” Scott narrowed his eyes as he scooted back on the couch and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. 

“Yes, I made sure they were fully aware that there were kids here.” Their mother had a bite in her tone that left Virgil sure she had done nothing less than yell at the repairman. “Now settle down and let Gordon curl up with you.” 

Scott did as he was told, wrapping themselves up in the blankets. “What about Virgil?” 

“He can practice for a bit while I get a fire going.” She was in front of the fireplace, trying to figure out the best way to get down to the floor. John was there in a moment, helping his mom the best he could. He handed her some wood—he had to drag a few to her because they were too heavy for him, but she thanked him with each piece. 

Virgil was halfway through his music, taking it slow and steady. “Mommy?” 

“Yes, Virgil.” She took in another deep breath and blew on the fledgling flame. 

“When is Daddy coming home?” 

John huffed in annoyance as he handed his mother another piece of paper for the fire. “You should know when he’s coming home. You ask it every day, just take one away and you have your answer.” 

“I can’t think about that right now, I’m thinking about music.” 

“Sure you can. If I can talk and read, you can play and do math.” 

“John, why do you have to be so mean to him?” Scott frowned at his next youngest brother.

“I’m just telling him like it is. He can add and subtract just fine.” John rolled his eyes. 

“Not as good as you, he’s just starting to learn. Give him a break.” 

“Boys, not now.” Their mother sighed heavily as she fed the fire some more. Soon it had caught and the flame grew brighter, an orange glow shined off her face. “John, help me up.” 

John jumped to his mother’s elbow and did what he could to help her to her feet again. Once she was standing, he retreated back to the couch, his blankets and book. 

“Come, Virgil. Time to stop for the night.” 

“I’m not done.” He only had a hand full of lines left and wanted to finish it, but a hand on top of his stopped him and forced him to look up at his mother, his brows knitted together in a frown on his face. 

“You can practice again tomorrow.” 

Virgil sighed and allowed another shiver to run through him. His mother took his hand and led him off of the bench. “Fifty-seven days.” 

“Hm?” She helped him up onto the couch and next to John who opened his blankets so that Virgil could snuggle up next to him. 

“Fifty-seven days until Daddy comes home.” 

“See, told you you could figure it out.” John was smiling down at him though, and pulled him in tight next to him. 

“Boys, time to go to sleep.” 

“I’m not tired.” John flipped the page in his book while Virgil leaned over to look at the pictures. 

“John Glenn Tracy. Do I have to take that book from you?” 

John sighed and sent a steely green gaze over to his mother. “Mom, it’s only seven o’clock.” 

She returned with her own stern gray gaze to equal his own. “It’s not good for your eyes to read in the dark like this.” She reached over and plucked the book from his lap and slipped it under the cushion she sat on. “You’ll get it back in the morning.” 

John humphed, Scott smiled, and Virgil giggled. Slowly, with nothing to keep them busy, and just the calm crackling of the fire, they all nodded off snuggled up against either side of their mother. 

 

“Mom.” 

Virgil was still asleep. He was sure of it, but he could feel his mother move next to him. 

“Mom.” 

“What is it, Scott?” Her voice was gravely; dry from the cold dry air around them. 

“The phone is ringing.” 

Virgil heard it too. She was moving more now, trying to slip herself out from the weight of her four boys on either side of her. Virgil had fallen to his side and pushed himself up. Scott was scooting closer to him with Gordon still sound asleep on his lap. 

“Hello?” Her voice was faint, the main phone was down the hall next to the kitchen. “Yes, this is her. Who is this?” 

Virgil looked up at Scott who was frowning and stretching his neck to try and see down the hall. The room was dark now, the fire having died down significantly, but Virgil thought his brother looked a little paler than normal. 

“What do you mean you lost contact?” Their mother’s voice was shaking and cracked a little as she tried to keep herself from yelling. 

Virgil could feel John’s arm tighten around him, and he wiggled a little. He looked up and John was watching Scott as if he were trying to interpret the small ticks in his features—like they would be able to tell him more than what he could hear from his mother. 

“Is Mommy okay?” Virgil’s voice was barely a whisper as he tugged on Scott’s arm. 

“I don’t know.” Scott brushed his hand away as he leaned forward. 

“Three days?” Their mother’s voice was louder now and Gordon stirred a little. 

“Shh, Gordon, shhh.” Scott petted Gordon’s hair a little until he settled down into deep sleep again. 

“Scott, you don’t think—” John was leaning over Virgil now, almost on top of him. 

“Shh.” Scott shook his head as he strained to hear the softened conversation. 

“No, I’m not alright! It is twenty-eight degrees outside. I am six months pregnant and have four young boys in a house with a broken furnace, and now you tell me that my husband is lost on the far side of the Moon!” She was still trying to hold back her emotions, but was failing horribly. They could hear her crying easily and the three brothers jumped when they heard her punch the wall. “I don’t care how sorry you are, just find my damn husband!” 

They looked at each other, none of them wanting to confirm what they had heard. After a minute their mother was still crying in the hall, and Virgil forced his way out from under the blankets. The room was much colder now, and he couldn’t help but shiver as he scooted off the couch and climbed back onto the piano bench. 

“Virgil, get back over here.” Scott had pulled John close to him, his face buried in his older brother’s side. 

Virgil ignored him and reached up to adjust the music on the stand, turning it back to page one. He started slow, the keys even colder than before. 

“Virgil, what are you doing?” Their mother was back in the room, her hands rubbing her stomach. 

“I’m practicing.” 

“It’s the middle of the night.” 

“But I need it to be perfect for when Dad comes back.” 

“Dear…” She sat down on the bench next to him, but he ignored her. 

“He’ll be back. He always comes back.” Virgil ignored anything else they had to say. He was sure, as long as he practiced for him, he would be back to hear him. He had promised. 

 

Virgil woke up the next morning back on the couch, curled up next to John. It was warmer now, but he was still wrapped up in a blanket. He was really sleepy, but the sun was bright coming through the window. 

“Afternoon.” John looked over at him, a frown on his face. “You missed breakfast.” 

Virgil blinked at him, not quite understanding. He yawned and stretched, but wasn’t so inclined to move quite yet. He was half asleep again when he heard a sniff next to him. He looked over and could see the tears on John’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” Virgil twisted around so he was facing John and reached up to wipe one of the tears away. 

“Don’t you remember? Dad’s missing.” 

Virgil’s eyes widened as the memory flooded into his mind. He curled up into a ball and gasped as a small sob escaped. He was so sure that his dad would be found again. There was still time, he just needed to play, needed to practice for him. He promised to come home and he would do it. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. He didn’t have time to cry, instead he crawled once again off the couch and back onto the piano bench. 

“Virgil, do you have to keep playing?” 

“Yes.” 

John slumped down in the couch and pulled his blankets tighter around him as Virgil started to play again. 

“Scott! Bring Gordon into the living room.” Their mother appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face. “Virgil, stop playing and get on the couch with John. I have a surprise.” 

Virgil frowned, he hadn’t even gotten though the second line of music yet, but did as his mother asked. She was carrying one of the new holovid consoles and laid it on the coffee table. Scott was behind her, Gordon dragging his feet behind him. 

Scott lifted Gordon up onto the couch before climbing up himself and sitting next to his brothers. Their mother sat down on the other side of the bunch and then reached forward and hit the button on the console. 

The image flickered a little, but then it cleared up and their father’s head floated before them. 

“Hello, boys.” 

The room erupted as his sons brightened up and clamored over each other to get his attention. 

“You’re okay!” A few tears leaking from Scott’s eyes, but he reached up and wiped them away quickly. 

“We thought you were dead!” John, who always prepared for the worst, hiccuped around his tears. 

“Daddy!” Gordon, who really hadn’t known what was going on, only that his family was sad and now they were happy. 

“Did you hear about the furnace?” John wiped at his eyes and then crawled forward to talk to his dad. 

“It was so cold we had to sleep on the couch.” Scott interrupted his brother scooting to the edge of the couch. 

“Mom wouldn’t let me read.” John added in as he crossed his arms. “And it was one of my space books too.” 

“Virgil?” Their father had been smiling, but it disappeared as he looked past his two eldest. “You okay?” 

Virgil hadn’t said anything, he had just sat back in the couch his eyes screwed shut, holding his breath. He was happy, he was, but he knew if he let himself breath, let him self see his father, he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. 

He couldn’t hold his breath for long, though, and let it out as he nodded in response to his father’s question. However, the next breath in was ragged and as soon as it was in, he held it again. He wasn’t going to cry. He was happy, but that didn’t mean he had to cry. He needed to be strong for his family and help them stay happy, like Gordon. 

“Oh, Virgil.” He felt his mother’s hand on his head, petting his hair.

Then he felt something heavy on his lap and he opened his eyes just enough to see Gordon there, his arms wrapped around him, his head on his chest. John and Scott were on either side, their arms wrapped around him as well, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let the breath out, a sob replaced it and the tears started to fall. 

“Virgil. I’m alright.” He could hear his father, but didn’t have the control over himself to answer him. 

“Virgil was a soldier last night. He didn’t cry at all. He just got up and practiced his music. He wanted it to be perfect for you because you had promised you’d be home.” 

“And I never break my promises.” There was a bit of silence as the boys hugged each other and allowed their tears to fall. “Did the furnace get fixed?” 

“Yes, they were here first thing this morning. Didn’t charge me for it either.” 

“That’s unusual.” 

“Well, I kind of gave them an earful, last night.” 

Their father chuckled a little at that. “Well, I’m sorry for the scare they gave you, all over a broken radio.” 

“At least that’s all it was. Are you still on schedule to return in a few months?” 

“Yep. I’ll be home just in time for Scott’s birthday. Have you talked to Mom?” 

“Yes, she will be arriving just in time for Gordon’s birthday and stay until you get back, at least. She was also talking about moving back to Kansas.” 

“Why am I not surprised.” He laughed a little again. “My time’s about up. You boys behave and obey your mother and your grandmother when she arrives. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” They were in unison, though the voices varied. Gordon’s was the strongest—with a little salute to go with it. Virgil’s was the weakest, still trying to stop the tears of relief that continued to fall. 

“Love you all. Take care.” And he was gone. 

They were quiet for a moment, but then Gordon was down on the ground running in circles. 

“I imagine you are all quite hungry. I should get lunch going.” His mother stood as well, and both his other brother’s pulled away. 

“You okay?” 

Virgil looked up at Scott and nodded. He would be. The strange weight was off his chest so everything would be okay.


	2. Movement II: vita e morte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has their mother's death, just FYI.

Virgil stood on his toes to look into the small bassinet that held his new baby brother. He was small. Smaller than Virgil had thought he would be. Of course he really didn’t have anything to compare him to—he couldn’t remember Gordon being that small, he was always crawling and walking and getting into trouble. 

  
This new one couldn’t do any of those things. He just lay there sleeping. He was wrapped up in a blanket, a red knitted cap on his head—though a lock of light brown hair was sticking out. Virgil wondered if he would be brown headed like Scott, or another color entirely since none of them had the same color of hair as it was.  
  
He reached over the edge of the bassinet and touched a finger to the little one’s small red nose. His whole face was red and flaky, but oh so soft. He let his finger slide down his small stubby nose and along his cheek. He couldn’t help but giggle when the baby smacked it’s little lips and its small eyes opened just a hair to allow the dark blue eyes to peek out.  
  
“Hi, Alan. I’m your brother, Virgil. Well, one of them at least. I’m the only one called Virgil, though, the other’s have different names.” Virgil continued to smile as the baby smacked its lips a few more times and then closed his eyes. “You sure do sleep a lot. Must be hard being born.” 

“It is very difficult.” 

Virgil pulled his hand out of the bassinet and turned to see his mom lying in the hospital bed watching him. She looked just as tired as his new brother did, though he didn’t quite understand why. He had been told that the baby had come from his mom’s belly, which would explain why it had grown so much—he just didn’t understand how the baby came out.  
  
“What do you think of your new brother?”  
  
“He’s small and soft.” Virgil glanced over at the clear bassinet, the bundle inside sleeping peacefully. “Was I ever that small?”  
  
His mother laughed a little. “No, you were the heaviest of all your brothers, Gordon was the smallest.”  
  
“Smaller than that?”  
  
“Yes, he was born a little early.”  
  
“Oh. So Alan will grow up to be my size eventually?”  
  
“When he’s four, yes, something like that.” She sighed heavily and looked around the room. “Where is Gordon?”  
  
“Grandma took him out to the playground, he was going crazy.”  
  
“Didn’t you want to go too?”  
  
“Someone needed to stay with you and Alan.” Virgil frowned a little. He did kind of want to go, but he didn’t want to leave his mom alone either and with Scott and John still at school and their dad still in space, he was all that was left.  
  
“Thank you.” She smiled again, but still looked really tired. “You want to come up and lay with me?”  
  
Virgil hesitated for a minute but nodded and crawled up onto the bed as carefully as he could.  
  
“Just don’t push on mommy’s tummy just yet, it’s still a bit sore.”  
Virgil nodded and curled up along one side, his head resting in her armpit. “Grandma said I have to share a room with Gordon now.”  
  
“Are you mad?”  
  
“A little.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Gordon’s annoying. He’ll get into my art stuff, and won’t leave me alone.”  
  
“That is probably true, but it’s for that same reason he can’t share a room with Alan.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Virgil snuggled closer to her and sighed.  
  
“You are his big brother. You need to let him know what is and isn’t okay.”  
  
“But I’m not as good a brother as Scott is.”  
  
“Well, Scott’s had a bit of practice. You’re Alan’s big brother now, too. You need to practice on Gordon so you know what to do once Alan grows up a little.”  
  
“I’ll try.” Virgil wasn’t too sure. He liked Gordon sure, but he could get so annoying sometimes.  
  
“Mommy!” Gordon ran into the room, his face red with the cold.  
  
“Hi, Gordon.”  
  
“I want to lay with Mommy too!” Gordon was already climbing up the bed before anyone could say anything about it.  
  
“Gordon, be careful, you’re hurting Mommy.” She grunted as Gordon had put a hand on her stomach along with some of his weight as he tried to get up next to her head. “Ruth—ow, Gordon!”  
  
Virgil carefully crawled off the bed while his mom and gran dealt with Gordon. He went back over to the bassinet and looked inside it.  
Alan was awake now, his blue eyes wide as they looked around.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe from Gordon.” Virgil was up on his toes again and reached over, tapping his finger on his little nose.

* * *

 

The room was white. It had always been white. His brothers’ rooms were white too. Virgil had always hated it, hated only having bits of color here and there. But their father had said no to painting their rooms. However, their father was gone again, and his mother had decided to paint Alan’s room something different. Virgil had helped her paint the small room a bright red and had so much fun he begged her to let him pain the other rooms.  
  
She had agreed, though she hadn’t realized just what she had agreed to. Virgil didn’t know his littlest brother yet so red was a good color in general. He knew his other brothers though, and one color wasn’t going to be enough.  
  
He was standing to the side of his big brothers’ room—a lot of their stuff had been moved to the middle and their furniture had been covered. They were away at school, unaware of what was going on. Gordon was with their grandma doing errands, and baby Alan was in his room sound asleep.  
  
“Alright. You ready?” His mother had just walked in with a can of paint, and paintbrushes in her hands.  
  
“Did you get the special stuff?”  
  
“It’s in the hall. Enough for both rooms like you asked.”  
Virgil couldn’t help but bounce in excitement. “You think they’ll like it?”  
  
“I bet they’ll love it.” His mother smiled at him as she popped open the first can of paint—a light blue. “Let’s get started, there’s a lot of work to get done.”  
  
It took them all day. Alan had woken up several times forcing his mom to take a break so she could feed him and change him and get him to sleep again. Virgil kept working during this time, doing his best to paint around the doors and windows while his mom did the big part of the room. He had a steady hand for a four-year-old but still had quite a few spots where he got paint where he wasn’t supposed to. His mother was never mad though, she praised him even when he got a large splotch of dark blue in the middle of the door which they just rounded off and painted his brother’s names in with some left over red paint.  
  
Their grandmother and grandfather collected John and Scott after school, keeping all three boys until after dinner—treating them to some fast food and an evening at the park to keep them happy. It was finally nearing seven o’clock when they heard the door open and Gordon’s screech echo through the house.  
  
“Looks like we finished just in time.” His mother had an arm full of the cloth they had used to cover the furniture and winked down at him. She had paint all over her face, and clothing. Virgil wasn’t any different and smiled up at her. He was just putting the last of his own things back into place when Alan took that moment to start crying again. His mother hurried out of the room to tend to him just as John and Scott were making their way up the stairs. Virgil followed, closed his door quickly and ran down the hall to block his brothers from going into their own room.  
  
“Virgil, I have homework to do.” John sighed as he tried to push his way past Virgil.  
  
“Homework? You have to color a picture.” Scott laughed coming up behind him, “Hey, what’s that?” He was looking up at the small circle with their names on it.  
  
“I guess someone thinks we’re going to forget where our room is?” John giggled a little.  
  
“You can’t go in until Mommy gets here.”  
  
“She’s busy with Alan.” John smile faded a bit as he looked down the hall towards Alan’s door where their mother had just appeared.  
  
“Go on and show them, Virgil.” His mother was in the doorway, Alan busy eating.  
  
Virgil nodded and opened the door rushing in and turning around so that he could see their faces.  
  
His two brothers stepped through the door slowly, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open.  
  
“Did you do this?” Scott asked as he threw his bag on his bed looking around.  
  
“Me and Mommy.” Virgil beamed.  
  
“What is that?” John was pointing to a picture over Scott’s bed. “A bird?”  
  
“It’s a plane!” Virgil frowned at John.  
  
“It looks like a bird.” John laughed a little.  
  
“Is that Dad’s plane?” Scott seemed to ignore both of them as he looked closer at the drawing.  
  
“Yeah!” Virgil turned away from John beaming again. “What do you think?”  
  
“I think the room is brilliant. The clouds are great, it looks like we’re in the middle of the sky!” Scott reached down and picked Virgil up squeezing him in a big hug.  
  
“It is pretty neat. Better than just white, but—” John had slung his book bag onto his desk and sat down in his chair.  
  
“Oh! Wait!” Virgil wiggled his way out of Scott’s hug and shut the door. He had a big smile on as he reached up and flipped the light switch off.  
  
They were cast into darkness for a moment until their eyes started to adjust to the light that was left. Stars and planets covered the ceiling and walls around them.  
  
“I used some of your books. I hope you don’t mind.” Virgil was still standing by the door, but was looking over at John.  
  
John’s eyes were wide again, his mouth open, but he wasn’t saying anything.  
  
“I mean, I tried. I even tried to put the stars in order. Mom had to help, well she did most of them, but I helped.” Virgil was looking up to the ceiling at the constellations that covered it. He hadn’t seen John move, but suddenly he was there, just an inch taller than he was, and hugging him tightly.  
  
This took Virgil by surprise, John didn’t like to cuddle like the rest of them, so a hug from him was something special. Virgil reached up and squeezed his brother back. “Do you want to see what we did to me and Gordon’s room?”  
  
“Sure!” Scott was next to him already opening the door as John finally let go and ruffled Virgil’s hair a little.  
  
They went down the hall and made their way into Virgil and Gordon’s room.  
  
“Since your room is sky and space, we did something different for ours.” His room was a bit more detailed than his brothers. On Gordon’s side the scenery was of the beach and a bit of ocean. The scenery changed as it went across the room so that Virgil’s side was covered in mountains with a cloudy sky above them.  
  
“This is awesome, Virgil!” Scot was in the middle of the room turning in a circle trying to take it all in.  
  
Neither room was perfect, there weren't any shadows and very few details to the drawings—it was obvious a young kid had done a lot of the painting, but it was still better than the plain white the rooms had been before. Virgil stood in the middle with the biggest smile he could muster.  
  
“You should have done something with the glow-in-the-dark paint in here too.” Scott was next to him, a hand on his head.  
  
Virgil just smiled more, if that was even possible. He ran over to the door and yelled down the stairs. “Gordon!”  
  
It was only a second later that they could hear the troublemaker scrambling up the stairs. He ran into the room and stopped, dead silent for once. Everyone laughed, but it was only for a moment before he started running around the room screeching in approval.  
  
“Scott, keep him in the middle.” Virgil went over and closed the door, then checked to make sure everyone was near the middle of the room and turned off the lights.  
  
Once again they were cast into darkness until their eyes adjusted. Instead of planets, stars and the beauty of space, they were cast into the depths of the ocean with fish and sharks all around them. There was even a squid above Gordon’s bed that looked like the stuffed one he carried around.  
  
“Yay!” Gordon squealed as he picked up his pace and was jumping on and off the beds in excitement—stopping every time he was on his own bed to stretch up and kiss the squid on the wall.  
  
“Alright, time to calm down.” Their mother was in the doorway, Alan in her arms. “Scott, you need to get your homework done, John too.”  
  
“See, she called it homework.” John stuck his tongue out at Scott.  
  
“Come on, let’s go.” Scott just shook his head and led John out of the room.  
His mother knelt down in front of him, Alan up against her shoulder. “It looks like they approve. You did good.”  
  
“You helped.” Virgil was still smiling as he reached up to touch Alan’s head. A small burp escaped the small body and Virgil giggled.  
  
“We did it together.” She pulled him into her free arm and hugged him tightly. “Now go get yourself a snack, you deserve it. Then a bath.”  
  
Virgil laughed again as he made his way downstairs, Gordon following.

* * *

 

His parents were in the living room talking about him again while Virgil sat in the hall just outside of the room. Alan was sitting on the floor in front of his mother playing with a rattle he alternately put in his mouth and then waved through the air, hitting himself and his mother with. He was a verbal baby, babbling away constantly, though still not as annoying as Gordon.  
  
“I think it’s time we sign Virgil up for some recitals.” His mother flicked one of the shiny toys that hung above Alan and he cooed as he reached up for it.  
  
“Why does he need to do that? He hasn’t even been learning for a year yet.”  
  
“So he can show off, plus it’ll be over a year by the time the recital comes around.  
  
His father laughed, that low chuckle of his. “More like so you can show him off.”  
  
“Well, maybe, but he wants to do it too. He needs to see where he is compared to others.”  
  
“Competition, I can understand that.”  
  
“It’s not a competition, just a showcase.”  
  
“And it costs five-hundred dollars to sign him up?”  
  
“The fees go to renting the hall, and paying for the workers.”  
  
“I suppose that is necessary. When is this recital?”  
  
“In December, just before Christmas. You should be home then, right?”  
  
“I should.” The squeak in his father’s chair started up again. “He’ll be going into kindergarten this year, won’t he?”  
  
“Yes, and he knows how to read and write his name already—and simple math.”  
  
“Good. Good. Still, I don’t want this music thing to come in the way of his schooling.”  
  
“Do I really need to bring up the articles and show you again? They were peered reviewed, need I remind you.”  
  
“No, no. I trust in your word, and I know you’re work is flawless.” His father held up his hands in defeat, but wasn’t apparently done arguing. “However, making sure they have a good basis in the STEM subjects is just as vital. If he spends all his time practicing his music, when will he do his homework?”  
  
“He will do his homework after school, and then practice. He knows that’s how it’s going to be.  Anyways, like I said, Virgil may not go into the sciences like you’d like him to do. Maybe music and art are his career paths. You don’t want to staunch those talents and lead him down a path he may not be happy with.”  
  
“I want to lead him down a path where he’ll make good money and be able to support himself.”  
  
“One recital isn’t going to kill his opportunity to get into MIT or Harvard.”  
  
“I was thinking more along the lines of Yale, actually.”  
  
“Jeff.”  
  
“Alright.” His father laughed a little, still smiling. “He can do the recital. But I don’t want him to be doing recitals every month or something silly like that.”  
  
Virgil jumped to his feet and dashed upstairs. He didn’t need to hear the rest of the conversation, he was going to play in the recital and that was enough. He jumped onto his bed and grabbed at the pamphlet he had hidden under his pillow. He couldn’t read most of it, the print was really small, and there were a lot of big words. He did know two of the words though, piano recital. There was a picture of a young boy, probably older than himself, sitting at a piano playing on a big stage with lights everywhere. He couldn’t wait to do that himself. He wanted to play for people, because his mom said his playing would make people smile, and he wanted to make as many people as he could just as happy as he was when he played.

It was just a few weeks later that Virgil was off to school, and he didn’t quite get what was so great about it. Scott had made a big deal about walking John to his class and their mother took him to his. John was now in first grade and he was in kindergarten. It was nice that there were other kids around him, kids other than his brothers that was. Virgil made friends fast and even those that seemed to distance themselves from the kid who knew everything, eventually warmed up to him as well.  
  
Kindergarten was all about learning to read, write, and count. Virgil knew how to do all of that. He wasn’t as good as his brothers—John was reading at a third grade level, Virgil was only reading at a first grade level. But a lot of his classmates were just starting out.  
  
More often, Virgil could be found at the back of the classroom—there just happened to be a piano there. When the rest of the class was busy learning basic reading skills or numbers, Virgil would wander to the piano and play. Nothing major, just some of the nursery rhymes they would sing in class and sometimes what he could remember of his piece he’d been working on since the beginning of the year. At first the teacher scolded him for getting on the piano, but in the end, the sound of it soothed some of the students who were otherwise struggling with their work and eventually came to rely on it.  
  
Virgil never played during writing practice—he knew how to write his name, but nothing else. He also never played during art. That was one of the two reasons he never complained about going to school. He loved art class and music class of course. His art teacher would sometimes let him play with the finger paints, while the rest of the class was still limited to crayons. His music teacher would let him sit on the bench with him and help him play while the rest of the class sang. This was how he learned several of the nursery rhymes he’d play for the others during class.  
  
Soon, fall had turned to winter and it was time for Virgil’s recital. He had made invitations during art class and handed them out to all the students in his class—they were nothing more than rough squares of paper with his name, the word recital, and a picture of a black piano. The teacher then had to spend the next several minutes explaining what a recital was, and handing out more formal invitations his mother had sent with him. He didn’t know if any of his classmates would go, but he hoped so.

Finally the night of his recital was there and Virgil was nervous. His mom was with him behind the stage. Everyone who was playing were forced to sit in a large room in the back, waiting for their turn. His brothers were in the audience, his grandma and father with them.  
  
“How are you feeling?” His mother was sitting next to him, his music in her hands.  
  
“Okay.” Virgil wanted to curl up, pull his knees to his chest, but he had to sit properly so he wouldn’t wrinkle his new suit.  
  
“It’s okay to be nervous.” She reached over and put an arm around him.  
  
“What if I mess up?”  
  
“Then you’ll mess up. No one is perfect. Just do the best you can do. I’ll be proud of you regardless.”  
  
Virgil nodded and took a deep breath.  
  
Soon it was his turn. He stood on the side of the stage, his mother behind him. The piano was in the middle of the stage, big and black. Virgil had his music in his hands, and they were trembling. He felt the push of his mother from behind and stumbled a little as he made his way out onto the stage. He had sworn he wasn’t going to look into the audience, but found his eyes flicker toward the darkness anyways.  
  
He found his family easily, they were only three rows back in the middle—Gordon was already sleeping, but everyone else was awake and watching. He swallowed and finished the long trek to the piano and crawled up on the seat. He reached up and put his music on the stand, but a page fell and fluttered to the ground. He could hear someone laugh in the audience, and felt his cheeks burn.  
  
His mother ran out onto the stage and collected the page, setting it back with its fellows for him before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and then back off stage again.  
  
Virgil took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Slowly he opened them again, his concentration only on the music before him. He laid his fingers on the keys and slowly started. His fingers felt stiff, his shoulders ached. He forced the music out, though, and as he played he started to forget the audience and all the eyes watching him. It started to become easier, the music flowed from him.  
  
He messed up multiple times, though. He was only five after all. His hands were still small and sometimes it was hard to stretch them out to get to the notes he needed. He played too fast at the beginning, and then slowed down a lot near the middle—still needing to look up at the music and pausing when he forgot what note was what. He kept speeding up on the refrain and missed notes he had known by heart only the day before.    
  
When the last note rang out in the auditorium there was silence. Virgil was afraid to look, afraid to even move. The silence seemed to last for ages, but slowly someone started to clap, then another, then more. Soon the room was filled with applause—and a few whistles and screams from certain brothers.  
Virgil let out the breath he was holding, grabbed his music, and slid off of the bench. He turned toward the audience and bowed like his mother had taught him and then jogged off the stage. She was waiting for him, squatting down with her arms open. He crashed right into her, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.  
  
“How did I do?”  
  
“You were wonderful! Don’t you hear the applause?”  
  
He did, but he still couldn’t believe it was just for him.  
  
“Excuse me.” Virgil looked up to see a woman standing behind his mom. She looked strict, like the principle at his school. her hair was pulled back tight and her smile looked a little mean. “My name is Sara Vogel. I’m a recruiter with the Kansas City School of Music. Your little one there has quite a bit of talent.”  
Virgil clung to his mother’s skirt as she stood up to shake the hand offered to her.  
  
“Yes, and he’s only been playing a little over a year.”  
  
“Has he now? That is quite impressive. How old is he?”  
  
“Five. Just started Kindergarten this year.” Virgil tightened his grip and his mother reached down and held his head next to her.  
  
“He has quite a bit of potential then. Have you ever thought of sending him to a music school?”  
  
“I’ve thought about it, but we’re not from here. Home is a good four hours away. Trying to get him to a music school wouldn’t quite work.”  
  
“I see. There are scholarships available that might help. We have students that live in the city during the week and go home on the weekends. Their scholarships pay for their room and board.”  
  
“He’s only five.”  
  
“Well, of course you would go with him.”  
  
“And I have four other sons.”  
  
“I see, maybe when he is older then. In the meantime, I encourage you to visit our site, and maybe look at our summer programs.” The woman reached into her purse and pulled out a small white card.  
  
Virgil watched as his mother took the card and looked at it, still smiling at the strange lady. They exchanged a few more words before the woman finally walked away.  
  
Virgil tugged on his mother’s skirt getting her attention. “What’s a music school?”  
  
She knelt down next to him again, her hands on his shoulders. “It’s a place where you would learn a lot of music. More than what I can teach you. Would you want to do something like that?”  
  
“Yeah!” Virgil smiled his eyes bright. A place where he could just learn music would be like playtime everyday.  
  
“Come along, once we get home I’ll talk to your father about it.”

* * *

 

“No! Absolutely not!” Their father’s voice echoed through the house.  
  
Virgil was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs listening in on his parents’ conversation. They had been going at it since they had returned home, and Virgil was afraid of what would happen.  
  
“What’s going on?” Scott was behind him, John on his heels. “What are they arguing about?”  
  
“Me.” Virgil was hugging the railing, failing to keep his tears in. “A woman offered to let me study at a music school.”  
  
“A music school?” Scott seemed shocked at this. “And you want to go?”  
  
“I thought I did, but I didn’t think it would make Mom and Dad yell like this.” Virgil sniffed and leaned into Scott as he sat down next to him.  
  
“Jeff, he wants to learn music, this would be the best opportunity! There are scholarships out there that would help with the money.”  
  
“This isn’t about the money!” He could hear his father stomp on the floor. “This is about family. Yes, a scholarship would support you and him, but what about your other four sons? They’d have to stay here without their mother.”  
  
“Your mother could help with them, or she could live in Wichita with Virgil.”  
  
“And then he’d be without his mother. Are you really wanting to split the family up?”  
  
Virgil popped up as the implications of what his father was saying hit him. “Why is he saying that, Scott?”  
  
“There aren’t any music school near here.” John offered from where he sat behind them. “If you were to go you’d have to move to a big city, while we’d stay here.”  
  
More tears started to fall down Virgil’s cheeks. He jumped from the step and ran into the living room jumping and grabbing his mother’s waist as he did. “I don’t wanna go to that music school! I don’t!”  
  
She knelt down and pulled Virgil to her, his little body shaking with grief. “But you said you wanted to go.”  
  
“I don’t want to leave my brothers or you. I want to stay here.” He could feel her sigh and her arms tightened around him.  
  
“Then you don’t have to go. You can stay here.”  
  
Virgil couldn’t stop the crying, or the sobbing. The thought that he wouldn’t see his brothers again had been so sharp, the pain just wouldn’t stop.  
  
“Shh, it’s alright.”  
  
“Virgil.” It was his father, he was down near him now, his arms around both him and his mother. “Nothing will take you away from us. I promise.”  
  
There was a shift, as his father moved over a little, one arm leaving him, he wasn’t ready for them to leave him yet, and the tears started to fall harder again.  
  
“Come along, you two.”  
  
Suddenly Scott was there, and John too—though he wasn’t quite hugging, but he was there with his hand on Virgil’s head, petting his hair. Then suddenly there was a shout and Gordon was riding their father’s back, laughing his head off.  
  
Virgil choked a bit on a sob, a giggle escaping. He loved his brothers, and his parents. He didn’t ever want a reason not to be with them. They sat like that for a very long time, until Gordon had gotten bored and wandered into the kitchen looking for cookies, and Virgil had finally calmed down—curled up in his mom’s arms.

* * *

 

“Do you have to go?” Virgil was holding on to his mom’s pants as she stood in the driveway, a car waiting to take her away.  
  
“We’ve been over this.” She knelt down in front of him, little Alan just over a year old in her arms. “I won’t be gone long, just a little over a week.”  
  
“I still don’t want you to go.”  
  
“Mommy!” Gordon ran up to them and jumped into his mother’s empty arm. “You don’t go. I won’t let you.”  
  
She sighed again as she bundled Gordon up on her other hip, opening the middle for Virgil to squeeze in. “It’s unusual for you to be so clinging, Gordon.”  
  
“He had a dream last night that he couldn’t find you.” Virgil squeezed his way in next to his mother and buried his face in her chest.  
  
“I see.” She smiled but wrapped her arms around them as tight as she could. “I promise I’ll be careful, and I will be back. I don’t break my promises.”  
  
“No!” Gordon shook his head and seemed to cling even tighter to her.  
  
“Gordon, dear. I have to go.”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Gordon, come to Grandma.”  
  
Virgil stepped back as his mother stood and tried to pass Gordon off to their grandmother.  
  
“No!” Gordon just screamed even louder.  
  
Grandma took Alan, as Virgil continued to cling to his mother’s leg.  
  
“Gordon, let go of your mother.” His father was there, he would be there all week as well. He was prying Gordon’s fingers off of her shirt and pulled him away from her.  
  
“No!” He continued to cry, tears running down his normally happy face.  
  
“Maybe I can put it off?” She had a hand toward him, a frown on her face.  
  
“No, you can’t. You’ve already put it off three times now. Twice for this reason alone. He’s just not used to you not being here. He’ll survive, I promise.”  
  
“I-I guess. If I can I’ll come home early though.” She reached over and hugged both their father and Gordon who was still crying loudly.  
  
Virgil hesitantly stepped off to the side as his mother squatted down again and pulled Scott and John to her. “Scott, you help you grandmother, okay?”  
  
“Yes, mom. I’ll try not to let her burn down the house while cooking.” Scott smiled, though it was a sad one, none of his brothers were too happy about her going away either.  
  
“Scott! Shh—don’t let her hear you say that!” They both laughed a little. “John, you behave and promise that you’ll not stay up till one in the morning reading.”  
  
“Yes, mom.” John was crying a little too, though he kept wiping his eyes with his arm to try and hide it.  
  
It was the first time Virgil could ever remember their mother leaving for any length of time.  
  
“Now, remember, Grant will bring you home next Monday.”  
  
Virgil latched onto Scott as his mother stood once again and walked away with their grandmother.  
  
“I remember. He’s badgered me into going out to eat before we leave.”  
  
“Oh, he probably wants to take you to that one restaurant he likes.”  
  
“Well, it will be the last time for awhile. I can’t thank you enough for moving back.”  
  
“It’s the least we can do. Raising five boys on your own is not easy, plus I want ample opportunity to spoil my grandsons.”  
  
“I’ll have to keep my eye on you then.” They both laughed and hugged.  
  
“Scott.” Virgil had a hand twisted in Scott’s shirt. “Mommy will come back, right?”  
  
“Yeah. She will.” Scott pulled him close with one hand, while the other held John’s. 

* * *

 

“How is everyone doing?” Their mother’s torso was floating above the kitchen table, their father and grandmother sitting and talking to it.  
  
“A bit mellow to be honest.” Their grandmother sighed.  
  
“What’s the matter?”  
  
“Gordon is still going on about how you’re not coming back. Haven’t had a laugh or a smile out of him all week.”  
  
“I knew I shouldn’t have left.”  
  
“Dear you needed to go. Don’t blame yourself for your son having withdrawal.”  
  
“How are the others?”  
  
“Same. Going about their business, but I think with Gordon the way he is, it’s brought the whole house down.”  
  
“You’re not helping Jeff.”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry.” He chuckled a little.  
  
“Well, they’ll be happy to know I’m coming home tomorrow. I’ve convinced Grant not to go out to eat. He’s going to enjoy his last meal while I’m at my last meeting. So I’ll be home before they even get out of school.”  
  
“Just let us know when you take off. I’ll come out and meet you at the airport.”  
  
“Will do. You two take care and tell the boys that I love them.”  
  
“We will.”  
  
Virgil sighed and leaned back against Scott. They had both said hi to their mother when she had first called, but stayed behind to listen to their parents’ conversation.  
  
“Mom really will be home tomorrow, right?” Virgil could feel Scott squeeze him a little as he rested his chin on his head.  
  
“Yeah, she promised remember.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Hey, don’t let Gordon get to you.”  
  
“I know, but he’s been having nightmares all week.”  
  
“Has he been keeping you up? We can switch beds if you want.”  
  
“Nah it’s okay. He just crawls in bed with me and cries himself to sleep again. Plus I wanna be a good big brother.”  
  
“Well, you’re doing an awesome job so far.” Scott ruffled Virgil’s hair again and then stood. “Come on, sooner we head to bed, sooner Mom will be back home.”

* * *

 

Virgil felt numb. Of course he had been numb ever since his father and grandmother had gathered the five of them in the living room to tell them about the accident.  
  
That had been almost a week ago. Yesterday his grandma came into his room and stuffed him and Gordon into the nice clothes they had gotten for his recital. They then drove them into town saying that they were going to say goodbye to their mother and grandfather.  
  
Gordon wouldn’t go. He just screamed and fought until someone offered to sit with him and Alan in another part of the building. Virgil wanted to go with Gordon too, but his father already had his hand and pulled him into the room.  
  
The room was filled with empty chairs, and there were pictures being played on a screen on the wall. There were also all kinds of flowers all over the room. In the front were two boxes. He was told they were in them, forever asleep. His father had offered to pick him up so he could see, but Virgil shook his head and backed away. He didn’t like that room, didn’t like the way it felt.  
  
He watched as Scott reached his hand in the box calling for their mother and crying. John looked, but didn’t touch, constantly wiping the tears from his own face. His grandma was at the other box, leaning over and it looked like she was talking to his grandpa which confused Virgil even more. After Scott walked away, his dad did something similar, though he just cried and called her name and other things Virgil didn’t quite catch.  
  
After a long while people started to show up. They lined up and walked by the boxes looking at his mom and grandpa, and then talking to his dad and grandma. They stood there for a very long time nodding and saying hi to those that greeted them. Eventually John disappeared, and as soon as Virgil had seen him leave, he followed.  
  
He didn’t know where John had gone, but he just went into one of the empty rooms and sat in the corner. He didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t want to be there, but he had nowhere else to go.  
  
He wasn’t sure how long he was there before someone found him. It was his teacher. She sat down next to him and offered him a cookie, which he declined—he wasn’t the least bit hungry. She didn’t say anything, but just sat there. He was kind of glad of that. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to people—felt that if he opened his mouth he would just start crying again.  
She sat with him for a long while, finally asking if she could hug him. Virgil just shrugged. So she laid one arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze before standing and walking away.  
  
Virgil didn’t remember a whole lot after that. His father showed up and dragged him back into the room and onto a chair. They sat there while people talked about his mom and grandfather and everyone cried around him. He was then packed into a long car and they drove somewhere. The boxes were brought out again, though shut this time, and everyone stood around them while more people talked. They then went to another building where they had a lot of food, though Virgil still wasn’t hungry and just messed with the food on the plate he had been given. He fell asleep at some point, not even remembering being carried to the car or tucked into his own bed.

When he woke up the next day Gordon was curled up next to him—his cheeks still wet with tears. Virgil did his best to wipe the wetness away, but seeing his brother made his chest hurt worse than it already was. He took in a ragged breath as tears once again started to fall. He buried his face in his pillow so he wouldn’t wake Gordon and finally allowed himself to cry.  
  
He had fallen asleep again, and when he woke Gordon was gone. Virgil sat up in his bed and looked around but the room was otherwise empty. He flopped back down and curled up under the blankets again. He didn’t know what time it was, and really didn’t care. His stomach growled a little, but he just curled up tighter and ignored it.  
  
“Virgil?” His grandmother was by his bed shaking him a little.  
  
Virgil rubbed his eyes and sat up, not realizing he had fallen asleep yet again.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Another shrug. He really didn’t know how he felt. Just not right.  
  
“I know. I feel the same.” She sighed as she reached out and ran her fingers through is unkept hair and along the side of his face.  
  
“Will it ever stop hurting?” It was just a whisper as he tightened his hold on his torso.  
  
“That’s a very big question.” She sighed again and pulled him next to her. “I’m afraid the answer is no. You’ll always miss her and you’ll always be sad when you think about her. However, the feeling will change a little over time. It will still hurt, but—well, I’m not sure if it gets easier or if you just get used to it.”  
  
“I don’t like it. I just want Mommy back. I want both of them back.”  
  
“Me too.” She held him for a bit longer before letting go and leaning past him. “I brought you a sandwich and something to drink. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat since yesterday morning.”  
  
“I’m not hungry.”  
  
“I know, but you need to eat. Please, for me?”  
  
Virgil hesitated for a moment before he sighed and took the offered sandwich. He looked at it for a long second and then took a bite, and then another. Before he knew it, it was gone. He had been hungry, even though he didn’t want to admit it.  
  
His grandmother let him be after that, and Virgil thought about laying back down and going back to sleep. The food seemed to have woken him up though so he crawled out of bed and down onto the floor. He pulled out his drawing stuff and looked down at the half finished drawing he had started for his mom.  
  
It was going to be a picture of them in the field she always took them all to to play. The field had been finished, and he had started on the figure of his mom. 

He stared down at the picture and then grabbed the paper and crumpled it up, throwing it against the wall. It bounced silently and landed on the floor next to his bed. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, but the fluffy clouds did nothing for his mood. Finally he stood up and left his room behind.

He walked down to his brothers’ room in hopes that maybe one of them could help distract him from his thoughts. He knocked lightly on the door, but there was no response. The door was cracked open so he pushed it open some more and peeked in. Scott’s side of the room was empty, but John was sitting at his desk, working on something.  
  
“Hey, John?” Virgil frowned when he didn’t get a response and walked over to his brother and tugged on his sleeve a little. “John?”  
  
John jumped and pulled a headphone from his ear. “What?” His voice was a little short, and he sighed as he looked over at Virgil  
  
“Do you want to play?”  
  
“I don’t have time to play. I’m doing my homework.”  
  
“But we’re not going to school this week.”  
  
“Still needs to be done.” John sighed again and put his headphone back in. “Look, I don’t feel like playing. Go find Scott or Gordon.”  
  
“Okay.” Virgil sighed and left.  
  
He made his way down the hall and into his baby brother’s room. If Alan was there, he knew he could talk to him without being turned away, but the one year old wasn’t in his crib. So, Virgil made his way downstairs.  
  
He found Gordon and Alan together in the living room, both asleep in the playpen. Scott was nearby, sitting on the edge of the couch looking out the window.  
  
“Scott?” Virgil walked up to him and tugged on his sleeve.  
  
Scott just pulled his arm away and turned away from Virgil a little.  
  
“Scott!” Virgil pulled on his sleeve again.  
  
“Virgil, go away!” Scott shoved Virgil aside sending him down on his rear.  
Virgil sat for a moment shocked, and soon the tears started. He snuffed and tried to stop them, but they just kept coming.  
  
“Why are you crying? I’m so tired of hearing everyone cry!” Scott stood and stomped back up the stairs, slamming the door to his room.  
  
The noise had woken up both Gordon and Alan who in turn started to cry on their own. Tears were still streaming down Virgil’s cheeks as an argument started above them.  
  
“What the hell is going on out here?” Their father was in the living room now, his face red, a glass in his hand. “Can’t everyone just shut up for once!”  
  
“Jeff! You’re one to talk!” Grandma was pushing herself past his father and leaned down into the playpen to pick up Alan. “Shh… It’s alright now.”  
  
It was too noisy, way too much for Virgil. He stood, wiped his face and ran past his father—though he could feel his father grasp for his arm—he slid out of it and out of the door. He ran, he wasn’t sure what direction, he just ran.

When he stopped he just flopped down in the grass and cried again. He wasn’t too far from the house, he could still hear Scott and John out of their open window, and the lower voice of his father probably arguing with their grandmother.  
  
It wasn’t enough that they had lost both their mother and their grandfather, but now everyone had to be upset and mad at each other. He hated it.  
  
Virgil hadn’t heard the screen door slam shut, or the sound of his father walking up to him, but jumped when his hand landed on his head.  
  
“Virgil, you okay?” His father lowered himself to the ground with a grunt and shook his head, “Of course your not, stupid question.”  
  
“You said there was no such thing as stupid questions.” Virgil sniffed and wiped at his eyes again.  
  
“That is true. So, you okay?”  
  
Virgil shook his head causing his hair to whip around his face a little.  
  
“But it’s more than your mom and grandpa?”  
  
Virgil nodded and pulled his knees as close to his chest as he could.  
  
“Come on up here.” His father was patting his lap.  
  
Virgil hesitated for a moment, but then crawled up against his father’s chest.  
  
“Everyone is hurting as I’m sure you know.” His father pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. “And we are all hurting in different ways. Our tolerance for things is a lot less than before.”  
  
“Tolerance?”  
  
“We can’t deal with things like we did before. We’re all a bit of a mess.”  
  
“But why does everyone have to yell and be angry?”  
  
“Because we’re confused, and everything just—hurts.”  
  
“I can believe that.” Virgil snuggled closer to his father burying his face in the day old white shirt, smelling the amber liquid that had been in his cup, probably all night.  
  
“It will take time for us to settle down.” His father sighed and tightened his hold a little. There was a pause and the slam of the screen door again. He could feel his father turn a little to look behind him, but then turned back and buried his face in Virgil’s hair. “I promise you, no one means anything they’ve said. Scott will eventually apologize for knocking you down, and yelling at you. John will apologize for not paying attention to you. It just may take awhile.”  
  
“I don’t like it.”  
  
“I know. Neither do I.”  
  
“What can I do to help?”  
  
“Take care of yourself first off.” His father lifted his head and looked down at his face. “If you think you’re doing okay, then help others. Gordon and Alan could use some distractions. Play with them if you’re up to it.”  
  
“What about John and Scott?”  
  
“Don’t take what they say to heart and help distract them as well. See if John will take you out stargazing. Ask Scott about flying.”  
  
“I’ll try.”  
  
“That’s all I ask. But remember, you are your first priority. If you don’t feel like playing don’t make yourself. Just like everyone else, it’ll take time.”  
  
Virgil nodded, but didn’t say anything else. They sat there, father and son, for some time. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would take to be back to normal, or what normal would mean. Their mother was no longer there. Their father was. Grandma was going to be around more, but without their grandfather. It just wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal. He wasn’t sure if they would ever find normal again, but he hoped they would at least find each other again because if he didn’t have his brothers, then there wasn’t anything else worth having.


	3. Movement III: Cambiamento

His father had been right, not that Virgil had doubted him or anything, but about a week and a half later Scott sat down and talked to Virgil.

Virgil was out in their mother's field—the one she always took them to to play. He had thought to try and draw but had ended up just sitting there staring at nothing in particular.

"Hey." Scott sat down next to him and leaned back on his hands looking up into the sky.

Virgil watched him, a little nervous and a little hopeful, but didn't say anything. The house has been hard to stay in for him. Everyone was on edge, and even a hello was the wrong button for some—especially Scott, so he found himself out in the fields most days, just waiting for dinner and everyone to be too tired to be mad.

"Look." Scott finally looked down at him and smiled a little. "I'm—I'm sorry for the way I've been. There's no excuse."

"You've been sad." Virgil was hesitant still to talk and looked away so he wouldn't have to see the anger on his brother's face again.

"Yeah, but that's no excuse to treat you like I have been." He could hear Scott sigh next to him. "I'm gonna do better though, I promise. We can't keep going like this. Mom wouldn't want us to, you know."

Virgil nodded a little, an image popping into his head of his mom trying to cheer him up. She was always good at finding little ways to help them remember the happy things and not to concentrate on the sad things. Virgil wished he was able to do the same.

"I shouldn't have left you to deal with Gordon and his nightmares. We can switch rooms if you want. You've always wanted to be roommates with John—though I'm not sure how good of a roommate he would be. He's—well, he's still ignoring everyone. Grandma's kinda worried about him."

Virgil nodded, not quite knowing what to say. They were going back to school that week, and it would be nice to get at least one night of uninterrupted sleep. Virgil pulled his knees to his chest, still not sure if he should talk or not. What if Scott was hoping he'd decline the offer and snap at him? He didn't want that to happen.

"I'm worried about John too and since I'm not going back to school next week—"

"What?" Virgil finally twisted around to look at his brother. He had been looking forward to school, it would be the most normal thing they could do, but if Scott wasn't going to be there—it wouldn't be the same.

"Dad's still in Houston and Grandma—well, I found her in her room crying. She's trying to be okay, but she's not. I told her I'd stay home so I could help her with Gordon and Alan."

Virgil blinked and realized that he hadn't seen his grandma cry, or his dad. He didn't understand why they thought they couldn't cry in front of them, but he knew that Scott couldn't do all of this on his own either. "I want to help."

"Thanks Virg."

Virgil felt Scott's arm wrap around him and allowed himself to be pulled into a small hug.

"But I'm the big brother. It's my job."

"I'm a big brother too." Virgil frowned a little as he looked up at Scott. "I'll stay with Gordon. His nightmares haven't been quite as bad. He doesn't wake up at all if he just sleeps with me from the start. I'll keep an eye on John too. His class is just across from mine."

Scott smiled and tightened his hold. "I keep forgetting that you're a big brother too. Alright, you keep an eye on Gordon when you're home, and John at school. Make sure John is eating, okay?"

Virgil nodded. It was the least he could do. He wanted his family to be happy again, though he knew it wasn't going to be easy—he wasn't all that happy himself, but it was maybe time to grow up like Scott. Move on, and try to live as best they could without their mother.

 

Their father came home the week after—he was taking a break from his work to figure out what would happen to their family—and Scott finally went back to school. Virgil did his best to keep Gordon and Alan distracted when he was home, and to keep an eye on John all the time. Like Scott and their grandma had noticed, he wasn't eating a whole lot. So Virgil would slip him snacks whenever he could. If they were at school and they got the good snacks, Virgil would slip from his classroom and sneak into his brother's, laying his cookie, pretzels, or whatever it was on John's desk. The first few times this happened everyone in the room watched him—everyone but John that was. After that, they just ignored him, though the teacher would smile at him occasionally and even his teacher started giving him extra snacks just for John.

Time moved on, and they continued to live.

* * *

 

It had been almost a year. Virgil was now in first grade and he couldn't say exactly how they had lived through it—it wasn't particularly a year he wanted to remember, but they had survived. John was talking to everyone again—though he still wasn't eating as much as he should, and Gordon wasn't waking up in the middle of the night anymore. Alan was running amok, and even Grandma seemed a bit more happy than she had.

They had established a routine, and it seemed to help everyone. So when their father announced that they would be missing the next week of school, not everyone was very happy about it. It wasn't even spring break, but they were being taken out of school and away from the normality they had established.

John argued with their father about it. They were supposed have a test that next week, and he didn't want to miss it. Virgil too, but he wasn't as vocal as John. Their father put his foot down though, and the decision had been made.

So they were out of school. Well, it was Saturday which they didn't go to school on anyways, but it was the first day of a vacation in California.

They weren't in California yet, of course. Virgil sat patiently in his seat in the terminal next to one of the huge windows that overlooked the airstrip and the planes outside. Their plane was just pulling up to the gate and it was a behemoth. He couldn't help but wonder how such a huge plane could fly. He had seen his dad take off in his little plane plenty of times and had started to wonder just how planes could do that.

He had thought to ask his dad a few times, but decided not to. He was an artist, finally having started to draw again. He hadn't yet sat at the piano, but he knew he would in time and that he would once again be a musician. But everyone knew that you were either an artist or a pilot, you couldn't be both, and Virgil wasn't about to give up on the dream his mother had. He would be the musician and the artist she had dreamt he'd be.

He pushed his curiosity aside. There was no point in pursuing the thought, he didn't need to now how planes flew to be able to play the piano. But he still looked out of the window a little bit afraid. It wasn't the same type of plane his mom and grandpa died in, yet—

"You'll be fine, you know." Scott was next to him, a hand on his knee. "You'll probably forget your even on a plane."

"Have you ever been on a big plane like this?" Virgil took a deep breath as he turned and looked up at Scott.

"Well, no, but that's what Dad told John."

"Yeah." John was on the other side of Scott, his face in his book. "Just keep yourself busy and you'll be fine."

Virgil nodded and tightened his grip on his backpack.

"Still scared?" Scott pulled him in for a hug.

Virgil leaned into his brother and clung to his shirt a little. Nobody said anything else and Virgil was okay with that. His family was with him, they would be fine, he hoped.

It took awhile before the plane was ready to board. They were allowed to board first since they had Alan and well, so many of them. Virgil could see the looks of some of the other passengers as all seven of them walked into the tunnel. Some just smiled at him and gave him a little wave while other's looked like they were disappointed in him for some reason, he didn't know why so he just hurried up so he was up between Scott and John.

They took their seats—taking up the entire middle row in the front, and were good. Well, all but Gordon. He was scared too, had said so before they had even gotten to the airport, but he was curious and that curiosity had apparently overrode his fear. He was wanting to run up and down the isle way and their father had to hold him in his lap, and then Scott did because it hadn't stopped him from grabbing at the other passengers as they passed.

Virgil thought that maybe it was the people that did it to Gordon. he always wanted to be friends with everyone. He sat on Scott's lap, waving and saying hi to everyone that passed completely having forgotten what he had been so scared of earlier.

Virgil stayed to himself for the most part. Waited with held breath for the plane to finally take off. Once they were up and level he tried to relax a little. He pulled one of his coloring books out to try and keep busy, but he couldn't really concentrate on it.

He looked over and Gordon was making a fuss between their father and Scott. John was just reading like he always was and Grandma had Alan on her lap busy watching the screen on the wall with his favorite cartoon on it.

Virgil just sighed and pulled his knees to his chest. He pried out the remote for the screen in front of him and flipped through the channels, but the only program of interest was some guy with big hair painting trees. He seemed like a nice guy so Virgil put on the headphones and listened.

The program didn't last long, but another episode started and Virgil continued to watch and listen. He was feeling a little sleepy—the man did have a nice soothing voice—so he closed his eyes and hoped that maybe a nap would make the flight go by faster. If felt like his eyes were on springs and anytime he tried to close them they would pop right back open.

He figured the longest he actually slept was maybe a minute. The painting on the screen when from no trees to a forest. A forest of happy trees.

The man on the screen was just about to give a bush at the bottom of his painting some friends when he was poked on the shoulder. Virgil jumped a little and looked over at John who was next to him. John just thumbed next to him and he could see that Scott and his father were looking at him so he took off his headphones.

"You want to go see the cockpit?" His father was half standing, a hand on Gordon's arm to keep him from running off.

Virgil thought for a moment. He was curious, he knew what the cockpit of his father's plane looked like—even knew what some of the switches and buttons did. He had no idea what kind of buttons a plane of this size needed though so he hesitantly nodded.

"Alright, Virgil and I will go up first, then you can come with John and Gordon." Scott walked past John and out past their grandmother. "You coming?" He was in the aisle holding his hand out for Virgil.

Virgil undid his seatbelt and took his brother's hand. Scott pulled him a little, eager to get to their destination.

"Scooter, slow down." It was a new nickname that Gordon had started using and everyone else had followed suit.

"Sorry, just a little excited." Scott smiled back at him. "I mean I've seen pictures of all kinds of cockpits, but to see it in person."

Virgil couldn't help but smile back. It was good to see his brother excited about planes again.

They made their way up to the front and paused next to the door. A steward was standing there, his smile wide as he looked down at them. "Now remember, don't touch anything and you can ask question only if they ask you if you have any."

"Yes, sir!" Scott beamed and Virgil nodded.

The door was opened and the room on the other side was much darker than the cabin they had come from. They took a step in and Virgil's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. There didn't look to be a surface in the room that wasn't covered with a screen, button, gauge, lever, or anything else.

"This is awesome!" Scott squeezed Virgil's hand a little and he could feel him bounce on his feet next to him.

Virgil couldn't help but agree, it was more than he could have ever imagined.

"I think we have some future aviators on board." One of the men in front chuckled.

"Oh yea, definitely!" Scott took a step forward his hand still in Virgils. "My dad's been teaching me some basics, and takes me up in his plane, but I can't wait till I can fly on my own."

"Oh, your dad's a pilot, well that explains a lot." The other man laughed as well still too busy to look back at them.

"Yea! He's a colonel in the Air Force and an Astronaut!"

That comment seemed to be enough to make the pilot stir and turn around in his seat to look at them. "Ah, you're Jeff Tracy's boys, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" Virgil looked up at Scott's surprised face and giggled.

"Well, for one, you look just like him. And two, I know he's on board. We're old friends."

"Really? How do you know him?"

"Flew with him in the Air Force." The pilot smiled as he motioned for the two of them to come a little closer. "What do you recognize here?"

Scott started spouting things off, naming all the different controls. Virgil just watched, peering from behind the seat. He tried to listen, but a lot of what was being said went over his head. He had always tried to listen in to when their dad taught Scott about the plane, but this was just so much more than their dad's little plane was.

"Oh! That's the horizon!" Virgil pointed to the screen that was half black and half green. The line between them steady. Everyone stopped and looked at him and he hid a bit more behind the seat.

"That's right. You like planes too?"

"He does, but he won't admit to it." Scott laughed as he ruffled Virgil's hair a bit. "He's more interested in playing the piano and painting."

"Really? Me too! The painting part at least." The co-pilot turned toward Virgil with a smile. "I keep my camera with me so I can take pictures and then I go home and paint them." He pulled out a good sized camera and clicked it in Virgil's direction—the flash blinding him for a moment. "Would you like to see some of my paintings?"

Virgil was rubbing at his eyes but nodded. He couldn't help but be a little star-struck. This man was a pilot and a painter. Virgil thought you had to be one or the other, he'd never dreamt someone could do both.

The co-pilot pulled off a scrap of paper from a clipboard and wrote something down. "When you get back to your seat go to this site. I post pictures of my paintings of pictures there."

Virgil couldn't hep but giggle at him as he took the paper and looked down at the strings of letters on it and nodded.

"Looks like we're getting close to Denver. You two best get back to your seats. Your father can bring the other two once we're back in the air."

"Yes, sir!" Scott saluted which got a laugh from both of the pilots.

Virgil held the piece of paper tightly as they made their way back to their seats. He had his tablet in his hand as soon as he could and carefully copied down the address that was written on it.

The pictures that were on the page were nothing less than amazing. They were mostly of sunsets or sunrises but a few storms dotted the page as well. He sat and looked at each picture in detail, zooming in as close as he could to try and figure out just how he was able to get that color or another, or how he was able to make the sky look like it was alive. This was way more complicated than the trees the guy on the screen did.

Virgil lost track of time as he looked through the paintings. He hadn't even realized they had landed and they were in the middle of taking off again when he tried to get to his things again, but his grandmother's hand stopped him. He was impatient. he wanted to get to his drawing stuff, but he waited, kicking his feet in anticipation of the picture in his head.

Finally the little seatbelt picture went off above him and he jumped out of his seat and dug into his bag pulling out his notebook and pencils.

He went straight to work. He was so consumed by his art that he hadn't noticed the quiet after their father had taken John and Gordon up to the cockpit, and it didn't even bother him when they came back and Gordon started running up and down the aisle annoying everyone. He just continued to work on his drawing for the whole flight.

It was finally finished and he wrote out his name in his prettiest handwriting he could. "Grandma! I wanna go back to the cockpit!"

She was busy trying to keep Alan calm, he had been quiet and seemed to have reached his limit. "I don't know if you'll be able to. I think we're getting ready to land."

"I have to!" Virgil was in front of her, the front seats offering them that extra room.

"Virgil." She sighed and glanced over at his father who was busy trying to corral Gordon into his own seat. Finally she waved down a passing stewardess. "Is there any way he could see the cockpit again real quick?"

"I'm afraid not. They're just about to turn on the seatbelt sign." She looked down at Virgil and smiled. "Sorry."

"But I've got to give this to the man up there!" he was waving his picture at them and that seemed to have grabbed the stewardesses attention.

"Which man?"

"The painter-pilot." Virgil rolled his eyes. Seriously, who else would he be drawing a picture for?

"How about I take it and make sure he gets it?"

Virgil was hesitant. He wanted to be the one to give it to him, to see his face when he saw it. However, this might be the only way of getting it to him now. "Promise he'll get it?"

"I promise." She crossed her heart and then turned to head back the way she had come.

Virgil peaked around the bulkhead in front of them and watched as she walked the length of the plane and disappeared through the door at the end. She was in the cockpit for only a moment and then came back out and back down towards them.

Virgil couldn't help but smile as she got closer, but she passed them without even looking at him, heading to an overhead compartment that was hanging open.

Virgil's smile faded. Had she even given him the picture? What did he think? Maybe he wasn't interested in kids pictures? Maybe it wasn't very good? Virgil's mind kept going as he was maneuvered back into his seat and buckled in for the landing.

The plane landed and taxied to their exit gate, but Virgils' brain wouldn't stop going on about the picture. He had worked to hard on it, had thought it was good. But apparently the painter-pilot didn't. Couldn't even be bothered to send a thank you back to him.

Everyone was standing now, getting their things out from the storage units. Virgil slid out of his seat and threw his stuff back into his bag pulling it onto his back. he stood, waiting, wanting to get out of the plane, to forget about the flight completely.

He felt John grab his hand and pull on it, leading him down the aisle and past the cockpit. They were out of the plane and suddenly stopped. Virgil looked up and saw their father talking to the plain ol' pilot. Virgil took a glance at the painter-pilot but looked down again, tears threatening to spill if they didn't start walking again.

"Hey."

Virgil looked up and the painter-pilot was squatting down in front of him.

"I got your picture and I just wanted to say thank you. It is beautiful. You're going to be some artist one day."

Virgil blinked, a couple of tears escaped as he tried to wipe them away before anyone noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah. I know you gave it to me just as we were landing, but I was just now able to look at it." He smiled a little and patted the front picket where Virgil could see a bit of the paper sticking out. "I'm going to hang it in my studio when I get home."

The smile was back on Virgil's face and the co-pilot smiled right back.

"Oh and keep an eye on my site. There just might be a surprise for you there in a couple of days.

Virgil nodded as a small bounce escaped him. "Okay!"

"Come along boys. We've still got to get our luggage and a car before we can head to the hotel."

Virgil felt his hand being squeezed and looked up at John who was smiling over at him. "Pretty awesome."

"Yeah." Virgil nodded as he followed his family down the tunnel. He turned and waved back at the painter-pilot one last time before he lost sight of him.

He was so happy he couldn't think of a way of describing it. An artist, a really real artist—not to mention he was a pilot too, that just made it like ten million times better—liked his drawing and was going to do something for him. Virgil had been hesitant about this little vacation of theirs, but if this was the way it was starting there was no way it could get any worse, he was sure of it.

It seemed to take them forever to get to the hotel, then a different kind of forever to get checked-in. Gordon was running in circles around the lobby followed closely by Alan—the clerk was watching him with a raised eyebrow as Scott tried to catch them.

After awhile they were finally led up to their two rooms which overlooked the ocean. His father immediately went over and locked he doors to the balcony—Virgil assumed that was solely because of Gordon who was now jumping on one of the double beds in the room. His grandma would have Alan and John in her room while Scott would share a bed with him and Gordon would sleep with their father—through Virgil had the suspicion he would end up between him and Scott most nights.

"I know I'm ready for a nap, but we need to do something with the boys."

Virgil looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, trying to put his clothes into the bottom drawer of the dresser as neat as possible. His grandma was standing in the doorway, Alan busy looking at himself in the nearby floor length mirror.

"I suppose we could go swimming." Their father suggested and all of the sudden the room went silent.

"Swimming!" Gordon screeched at the top of his lungs.

"Alright!" Their father had to yell just as loud to get the blond's attention. "As long as you promise to be careful. You've never been in more than an inch of water, I don't think." Their father smiled as he scratched his chin in thought. "When was the last time we took you lot to the pool?"

"Before Gordon I think. I can barely remember myself." Scott was sitting on the bed, one arm around Gordon's waist.

"Well, then, that settles it. Everyone get dressed."

They were down by the pool in no time. Grandma pulled John over to one of the shaded chairs and started slathering the sunscreen on him—always the first to get burnt with his fair skin and freckles. Their father had Alan in his hands, while Virgil had been put in charge of Gordon.

He had Gordon's hand in his own, and was trying his best to pull him over to where their Grandma was sitting and finishing up Scott. Once they were all protected their father took Gordon and Alan over to the kiddy pool area. He had offered to take Virgil as well, but the large blue expanse of the main pool intrigued him a little.

Virgil made his way over to the edge of the pool and looked down into the water. He wasn't completely confident though, it looked like fun. The people already in the water were all smiling and laughing, but it looked so deep. He watched as John made his way down a large staircase at the corner of the pool, and sat down on one of the steps so that he could still read his book he had brought with him.

Virgil thought that looked like the safest way into the pool, so he turned to head to the stairs and found Scott standing behind him. He smiled down at Virgil and then took a step and jumped into the water going all the way down to the bottom before making his way back to the surface again.

Virgil's eyes widened a bit and kept them on his brother until his head was above water and he was sure he was okay. Scott smiled at him when he surfaced and then began to slowly make his way to the shallower water.

Virgil shook his head and headed for the stairs and took the steps one at a time, clinging to the side as he did. It was warm out, but not hot. Still the pool wasn't too cold so it didn't take him long to adjust to the water's temperature. He had gone down to where the water was chest high, but he was hesitant to take the next step as it would probably put him under water.

"You want to come farther in?" Scott was there in front of him, his hands held out. "I'll help you."

Virgil looked down at the water still unsure about putting his head in it.

"Okay, how about this?" Scott took a big breath of air and held it so his cheeks were sticking out and then ducked under the water. His eyes were open and he was smiling and making faces up at Virgil.

Virgil laughed at his silly brother and decided he wanted to try it too. He took a deep breath and took a step down so that his head went under. He had his eyes closed, unsure what to expect but found it quite a weird sensation. His hearing was all muffled and it was weird not to be pulled down, but just there.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he slowly opened his eyes. Scott was there, smiling at him. Virgil smiled back, but wasn't able to hold his breath as long as his brother so he reached out for the step and gasped for air as he broke the surface.

"What did you think?"

"Not bad." Virgil smiled—the water didn't seem quite as scary anymore.

"Come on, let's go father out." Scott held out his hands again, waiting.

Virgil still wasn't sure about leaving the safety of the wall and the steps, but he trusted Scott so he took his hands and let him pull him away.

He started to panic a little at first as his body started to sink, but a reminder from Scott to relax and he found he was floating on his own. He put his head under a couple of times and tried kicking his feet a little—giggling at the spray of water that hit him and Scott.

Scott was playing at letting him go. He'd let go of one hand, let Virgil try and use it to keep afloat then take it back and let go of the other hand. Virgil didn't mind, he was becoming a bit more confident in the water and would have probably started doggie paddling on his own if there hadn't been a screech and a splash nearby.

Virgil breathed in a bunch of water and was coughing and scrambling for something to hold on to—he had lost Scott and couldn't see past the water that kept dripping into his eyes.

He wasn't alone for long though, soon somebody had him around the waist holding him above the water and patting him on the back. "You okay?" It was Scott in his ear and Virgil relaxed a little and wiped at his eyes.

"Yeah, but that was not fun."

"No it wasn't." He could feel Scott's head moved and he turned to see what he was looking at. Gordon was not far away laughing and doggie paddling around them.

"Come on, Birg! it's fun!"

There was a whistle and Scott raised his hand, waiving at the life guard that was staring them down. "Gordon, you can't do that. You'll be kicked out."

"No!" Gordon shook his head. "I wanna swim!"

"Then no more jumping."

Gordon was silent for a moment before he nodded. "Swimming is fun!" He smiled again and was paddling off in another direction.

"Didn't take him long to figure the water out." Scott smiled down at Virgil. "Guess we found out where he belongs."

Virgil smiled back, knowing just what Scott meant. He liked the water just as much as his other brothers, but Gordon would stay in their little baby pool twenty-four seven if they let him, and he was the only kid Virgil knew that loved baths.

 

The second day of their vacation their father took them down to the beach. The plan had been to look for shells or just stroll along the shore and see what they found.

They had barely stepped onto the sand and Gordon was splashing in the waves. Scott was right behind him trying to get him out of the water but a wave blind sided him and within moments he was on his rump and soaking wet. He tried to stand a couple of times but each time another wave came and brought him down again. Gordon just evaded the strongest waves like they were nothing and screeched with laughter every time Scott went down. Virgil was rolling in the sand himself, giggling so hard he could barely breath.

Their father had to go collect his second youngest himself and help Scott to stand. After that he took them back to the hotel to change and brought extra supplies back with them.

They spent the day there on the beach, rolling in the waves and building something that was supposed to look like a sand castle, but really didn't.

The waves were a lot different than the pool, and Virgil just stayed on the fringes of them. He could feel the pull as they came and went and was very afraid of them taking him the next time. Gordon was really the only one playing deep in the waves, Scott watching over him, and their father not far off.

He seemed to enjoy trying to jump over the waves—though none of them were too high, but occasionally one would come almost chest high on him.

Virgil just sat and watched, laughing at his brothers. He tried build another sand castle, but still couldn't quite figure out how to do it—the sand just wouldn't keep it's shape no matter how hard he tried to pack it together. John tried to help him, but he didn't have much luck either so they were both a little stumped as to how it worked.

Occasionally he would play pass with his grandmother—or well, it looked a little like pass, though the ball had a mind of its own. She was sitting down near a cliff wall where there was a little shade. For the most part Alan stayed near her, but occasionally Gordon's yells would get his attention and he would make a beeline for the water. Virgil would jump to his feet to intercept and the little two year old would skid and go back to their grandma before trying another attempt only to be stopped again by Virgil. It became a bit of a game and Alan giggled every time Virgil appeared before him.

It was almost dinner time before they finally returned to the hotel and by the time they had all changed into dry clothing and went down to dinner they were struggling to stay awake—at least Virgil was. He remembered getting his chicken nuggets, but he could not remember eating them. The next thing he knew Scott was taking his clothes off and trying to get him into his pajamas, but he couldn't even remember if he succeeded or not.

 

A couple of days later, after their morning swim Grandma decided to stay at the hotel with Alan and Gordon while their father took the rest of them to someplace special. They took the car and drove for a long time before they pulled up in front of a large building that had two planes sitting outside of it.

Scott was already out of his seat before their father had even stopped the car. He was bouncing on his feet as they joined him on the curb in front of the aerospace museum. They made their way inside and Scott was ready to burst from excitement—Virgil just watched him and giggled.

Virgil was happy for him, and John too. He didn't show his excitement as much as Scott, but he had actually put his book away for this so Virgil knew he was interested. Their father led them through the various displays and exhibitions explaining what he knew about the various aircraft and reading the plaques of those he was unsure about.

John complained a bit until they got to the space exhibit where he went around and read everything he could about each piece of equipment and quizzing his father to see if he knew as much as he was supposed to.

Virgil enjoyed himself. He loved to see his brother's happy, and the planes were really interesting as well.

"Dad, can that thing actually fly?" Virgil was pointing to the mock-up of one of Leonardo De Vinci's inventions.

"That? Yes, some have flown using devices like that."

"How?" Virgil turned his wide eyes up at his father. "Wouldn't their arms get tired?"

This father laughed at this and kneeled down next to him. "Well, that's part of the problem. They never flew far because it was too difficult for our wimpy little arms." He lifted up Virgil's arms and tickled him a little. "There have been a few people who made similar ones powered by machine instead of arms."

"It kind of looks like a bird."

"Well, that is what they based it off of. But even with current technology they aren't very efficient."

"Why do people still make them?"

"Don't you dream sometimes of just taking off and flying with the birds?"

Virgil smiled. "Yeah, do you?"

"Ever since I was your age." His father tapped him on the nose and then stood. "Come along, I think Scooter wants our attention in the next room.

They spent the day in the museum looking at everything they could. Virgil learned so much about planes his head felt stuffed by the time they arrived back at the hotel.

He heard his father and grandmother talking about going somewhere else, but Gordon was fast asleep on the bed—still wet from the pool, and Virgil felt pretty sleepy himself. He curled up next to Scott who had sat down to watch TV and fell fast asleep.

Virgil was woken up sometime later and told that it was time for dinner. He wasn't really hungry but they were going somewhere nice and was being forced to take a quick bath and dress up a little.

Gordon was already in the bath when Virgil climbed in and started splashing him right away. Virgil was used to it though and just ignored him. Eventually Gordon would get bored with the lack of response and stop on his own.

his grandma was there and helped him get cleaned up quickly and back out of the tub while Gordon continued to play. That was normal really—it was easier keeping him entertained in the tub than it would have been outside of it.

When Virgil made his way back into the main room Scott was holding out a pair of black pants and a green button down shirt—no tie, thankfully—Virgil hated ties. Scott helped him button up his shirt and put on his shoes while Grandma finally got Gordon out of the tub and dressed.

The restaurant wasn't too bad. They had boring music playing and all the tables had white cloths on them. They were taken to a large curved booth in the back corner where they scooted in. Grandma was in the middle, with Alan mostly in her lap, and their father and Scott were on either end. The waiter was in a tuxedo and had a white napkin draped over his arm. He handed out three large menus and then bowed.

"I don't like this place." John pouted as he slouched down in his seat—he had been forbidden to bring any of his books with him.

"What's wrong with it?" Their grandmother had picked up the menu and was looking over it. "It's pretty quiet here. Usually don't like noisy places."

"I didn't like the way they looked at us. Like they were expecting us to make trouble just cause we're kids."

"Well, with Gordon they have a good reason to." Scott laughed as he hesitantly picked up the third menu the waiter had left.

"I promised to be good." Gordon frowned, sticking out his lower lip in a small pout.

"And I'm sure you will be." Their father patted Gordon on the head and his frown was replaced by a smile. "Scooter, do you want something off the main menu or the kids?"

"I can have something off the main menu? Really?" Scott straightened up and pulled the menu to him, opening it up and getting a little lost behind it.

"Can I eat off the main one too?" Virgil pulled his legs up so he was kneeling on the seat to get a better look at Scott's menu. "I see chicken!"

"It has mushrooms on it." His grandmother looked over at him with a smile.

"Eww." Virgil scrunched up his nose and sat back down. "Don't they have anything normal like chicken nuggets?"

"Only on the kids menu."

"I suppose that'll work then." Virgil crossed his arm and ignored the laughing.

The waiter came back and took their orders; their father got a steak, Scott copied him and got the same thing, their grandmother ordered some sort of fish, and then three orders of chicken nuggets for the rest of them—Alan would eat off the others plates in turn.

Their food came a long while later, John complained about how long it could possibly take to cook chicken nuggets—at home it only took a minute in the microwave. The food was laid out and they all stared at Scott's plate. It was just as big as he was with a huge slab of steak, potatoes, and vegetables.

"You going to finish all of that?" Their father was chuckling a bit as he cut into his own steak.

"I'm gonna try!" Scott's eyes were big as he picked up the large knife and tried to cut into it like his father was. It didn't take long for his father to pull the plate over to help his eldest in his endeavor.

"Can I have a bite?" Virgil was watching their father cut up the piece of meat. It smelled good, and he just couldn't believe how big it was.

"Sure." As soon as Scott had his plate back he handed out pieces to his brothers.

Virgil bit into it and it almost melted in his mouth. "Can I have more?" He was on his knees again trying to stab a piece off of Scott's plate before he even got an answer back.

"Hold on." Scott swatted his hands away and then gave him a good amount on his own plate. "Think you can eat all that?"

"Yeah, it's good!" He could hear his father chuckle a little but he was too intent on his food to worry why. He grabbed the bottle of ketchup just as John was reaching for it and started shaking it up and down trying to get it to come out.

"Careful, you about hit me." John pushed Virgil a little. "Are you putting ketchup on your steak?"

"Yeah, and my nuggets."

"You're not supposed to put ketchup on steak."

"Why not?"

"You're just not. Dad and Scott didn't."

Virgil frowned and looked over to his dad and brother.

"You can put ketchup on it if you want." His father nodded at him and Virgil smiled shaking the bottle again. He shook it a couple of more times, before the bottle slipped and dropped noisily onto his plate scattering his meat and nuggets across the table.

"Give it to me." John took the bottle and sat up in his seat a bit more, hitting the bottom of the bottle with his hand. After the third slap of his hand the ketchup splattered all over the plate, John, and Virgil.

Virgil just giggled and picked up one of his chicken nuggets, dunking it into the ketchup.

"You two are going to need another bath when we get back." Their grandmother sighed as she pulled her napkin off her lap and tried to wipe off most of the mess from the two boys.

"I want ketchup!" Gordon had a nugget in his hand as he tried to climb over his grandmother and Alan and, after failing that, over the table to get across.

"You don't even like ketchup." Their father shook his head as he hauled the boy back to his seat.

"I want ketchup." Gordon grumped a little, the nugget still in his little hand.

"Alright, here." Their father reached for the dejected bottle and easily poured a small pile of the condiment onto Gordon's plate.

Gordon frowned at the red pool of sweetened tomato juice and shook his head. "I want messy ketchup."

Their father rolled his eyes. "Sorry, no more messy ketchup. It's that or nothing."

Gordon slumped back in his seat and nibbled on the plain nugget he was still holding.

Things calmed down after that as they concentrated on eating their food. Most of the chicken nuggets were eaten—the mess of ketchup used in their consumption. Scott's steak slowly disappeared, as well as the potatoes and the vegetables. Virgil watched his brother continue to eat long after he himself had finished—even ducking down to see if Scott's belly was sticking out from all the food.

Once they were done with their main course, they got dessert. They were even allowed to pick the type of cake they wanted. Virgil picked the chocolate cake, John the carrot cake, Gordon the white cake, and Scott grabbed a red cake.

"John's cake matches his hair!" Virgil laughed at the orange frosting that decorated the top.

"Well, yours matches your eyes." John spat back as he quickly started to eat.

"You sure you can eat that, Scooter?" Their father was leaning over watching the eldest. His plate was almost as empty as his father's.

"Yeah, we don't eat stuff like this all the time. I don't want to miss out."

"Just don't blame me if you end up getting sick."

"You can get sick from eating too much?" Virgil asked as he watched his eldest brother eat his bright red cake.

"Think about your play-do toy, the one were you put play-do in the top and squeeze it out the bottom."

"Yeah." Virgil tilted his head, not quite following.

"Well, remember what happens if you try to put too much in and push it all out? Some of it will aways come back up the other way. If there's nowhere for it to go it'll come back the way it came."

Virgil frowned and looked back at his brother. "Scooter, don't force it."

"Don't worry, Virg. I'm fine."

Virgil frowned, not quite convinced. He was sure Scott's stomach was bigger than it should have been already and he didn't think there would be room for the cake he was forcing down as well.

"Alright. As we finish up, I wanted to make a little announcement." Their father was wiping his mouth and pulling Gordon up from under the table.

"My cake fell." Gordon frowned as he continued to look under the table.

"You've got plenty still up here."

"What's up Dad?" Scott perked up a little as took a bite of the cream cheese frosting.

Virgil took a few slow bites of his own cake, one eye on his older brother to make sure he wasn't going to get sick. This was supposed to be a fun time, and being sick wasn't fun—even if you weren't the one that was sick.

"As you know I've been on hiatus from NASA and the Air Force—on a break that is—for the past year to help take care of you all and to figure out what was going to happen from here on out. That sabbatical is just about up."

"Are you going back and Grandma going to take care of us?" Scott looked a little sad but had a smile on his face. "I mean, that makes the most sense right? You can't abandon being an astronaut."

"I appreciate your support, son." Their father reached over and squeezed Scott's hand that lay on the table. "That was one of the options and your grandmother is fully prepared to raise you in place of your mother. However, what is important isn't my career. It's you lot."

Virgil looked around. He was a little confused, not quite sure what his father had meant by any of that. His father was just smiling, as was their grandma. Gordon wasn't even paying attention and just worked on his cake while trying to keep Alan away from it. John had stopped eating and was frowning at his father. Scott seemed to have frozen and stared at his father, his eyebrows all scrunched together like he wasn't happy.

"Dad, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm quitting the Air Force and NASA. I'm going to start up my own business."

"You can't!" Scott was on his feet, his face red. "You can't do that! It's stupid!"

"Now, Scoot—Scott, it's not that bad—"

"But you were slated to go back to Mars! you were going to be stationed on the moon again with Uncle Taylor! How can you give all that up?"

"I'm doing it for you."

"I'm not asking you to!" Scott stomped his foot and then turned and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Jeff, go. I'll manage here."

Their father nodded and stood to follow his eldest.

There were loud murmurs throughout the restaurant as Grandma scooted them out of the booth—Gordon complaining that he wasn't done eating, and tried to grab Virgil's left over cake as they went.

Virgil tugged on John's shirt as they were led out of the restaurant. "John. What's going on?"

"Dad's not going to be an astronaut anymore."

"Be he likes being an astronaut."

"Well, I guess he wants to be with us more." John just shrugged.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Then why is Scooter upset?"

"I don't know what his problem is." John just sighed as he pulled on Virgil's arm to catch up with their grandma.

They were a sad lot as they filed back into the bedroom. Even Gordon had quieted down on the ride home and was sniffling in their grandmother's lap. Virgil changed into his pajamas when told, their second bath forgotten as they climbed into bed. It was still early so she turned on a movie, but Virgil wasn't interested in it.

He eventually fell asleep, but worried about his big brother and why he was so upset with their father's news. Wouldn't their father being around more be a good thing?

When Virgil woke up the next morning, John was laying in the bed with him, Gordon between them with his thumb in his mouth. He was slow to wake, but as soon as the memories of the previous night caught up to him he popped up and looked around the room.

Their grandma was sitting up in the other bed, Alan asleep next to her. "Morning." She tried to smile, but Virgil could tell it wasn't a real one.

"Where's Scooter?"

"You're father went to pick him up. They should be back shortly."

"He was gone all night?"

"Yes, but he was safe." She readjusted her position in the bed, trying not to wake up Alan.

Virgil sat looking at his hands. Why would Scott do this to them? Why would he run away like that? Didn't he care about them anymore?

The sound of the door opening brought his attention to his father as he walked through. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous night looking really tired.

"Where's Scooter?" Virgil got the question out before his grandmother.

His father stared at him for a moment before blinking and sighing. "He's in the other room. Wanted to be left alone."

Virgil didn't care. He climbed out of bed and grabbed the spare key on the dresser. He could hear his dad calling for him, but he just ignored him and left the room.

The other room was dark, the curtains drawn, the lights out.

"I said I wanted to be alone"

Virgil could see Scott curled up in one of the beds. He didn't say anything but crawled up onto the bed and curled up against his back. It was a minute or so later before Scott moved, turning around to face him.

"What do you want?"

Virgil just shook his head and cuddled as close as he could to Scott.

"Virgil." Scott sighed but wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

"Do you hate Dad?" Virgil didn't want to make him mad, but he needed to know what was going on.

There was a pause and a sigh. "No. I don't hate him."

"Then why did you run away?"

"Because I don't want him to stop being an astronaut. He's giving up on his dream."

"But he's doing it for us."

"I don't want him to."

"But it's not your dream, maybe his dream has changed." Virgil wiggled a little so he could look up at his brother. "My dreams are always changing. Sometimes I want to play the piano in front of tons of people, and sometimes I want to draw famous people, and sometimes I want to create cartoons like on TV and sometimes—sometimes I even want to fly like Dad." It was quiet for a moment until Virgil realized that Scott was laughing. "What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing. You know it's okay if you want to paint and fly."

"Yeah, I know that now." Virgil rolled his eyes. "But why were you laughing?"

"Because I'm constantly amazed by how smart you are."

"I'm not smart. John's the smart one." Virgil shook his head.

"He's smart, but it's a different kind of smart." Scott smiled a little. "You're right. Dreams don't have to stay the same. He's already done some pretty amazing stuff as a pilot and an astronaut."

"Yeah. Now it's time for him to do some amazing stuff as a dad!"

"Yeah, he's gonna follow his new dream, and we'll support him as best we can, right?"

"Right."

Scott smiled a little and closed his eyes a bit

"You tired?"

"I didn't sleep last night, so yeah, I'm tired."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Always." Scott squeezed Virgil a little who squeaked but settled in next to him and dozed off again.


	4. Movement IV: Inquietudine

The next few months in the Tracy household were hectic to say the least. Starting a business was not easy, and the effects of his father’s efforts were felt almost immediately. Hardly a week after their vacation to California, the house had to be completely reorganized. 

  
Their grandmother had been sleeping on the portable bed in their father’s office, but he had been staying up late at night so she’d had to move into the living room which was not a proper room to be sleeping in—especially since she was now permanently living with them. So it was decided that Alan was old enough to share a room with two of his brothers and Grandma would take over his room. 

Alan was given the choice of who he wanted to live with. Virgil loved his little brother, but was ever so glad he had chosen to live with Scott and John—having two rambunctious little brothers in one room would have been too much for Virgil’s little nerves. A new bed was bought for Grandma and a bunkbed for Alan and John.   
  
The rest of the school year was mostly uneventful. Their father was in his office more often than not, and everyone seemed to adjust well enough to having their father around in a more permanent sense—though his permanency wasn’t helping the fact that their Grandmother still insisted on cooking.   
  
Virgil would have been perfectly happy eating sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and the frozen dinners they could microwave. However, his grandmother insisted on cooking at least one meal a week. There were a few times even their father agreed that ordering a pizza, or just going out for some fast food was a good substitution to the black remains that sat on the dinner table. Though more often he would sit down and actually be excited for dinner—like spaghetti night, Virgil didn’t know what she put in that sauce but it was so hot even the garlic bread didn’t help in getting rid of the heat.   
  
Summer came and went, and the second big change around the house happened. For the past several years when school came around they would all go to Wichita and go school shopping—regardless if they were in school or not, everyone got some new clothes. That year, there was no trip to Wichita.   
  
The first day of school was growing ever closer but they hadn’t even gotten their school supplies, let alone new clothes for the year. Virgil watched as Scott talked to their father. Even John spoke up about their worries of not being prepared for school. Virgil heard the word money get thrown around a few times, their grandmother even stopped buying some of Virgil’s favorite snacks saying that they just didn’t have enough that week.   
  
It was finally the weekend before the first day of school that they were all loaded up in the car and taken school shopping, but it wasn’t where they thought it would be.   
  
“Grandma. This place isn’t going to have what I want.” John was standing outside of the car as she worked on unbuckling Alan from his seat.   
  
“You don’t know that.”   
  
“I want to go to a proper book store.” John argued crossing his arm.   
  
“Why are we shopping here?” Virgil was holding onto Gordon as he tried to pull his hand free—Virgil had gotten a lot better at holding onto his little brother.   
  
“This is what we can afford at the moment. Money is a little tight, we have to cut corners where we can.”   
  
Virgil frowned, not quite understanding what she meant.   
  
They followed their grandma into the local store. It was crowded, they weren’t the only ones doing last minute school shopping. They made their way to the school supplies which had already been heavily picked through. Virgil found a couple of folders with music on the outsides, but when he took them to his grandmother she shook her head and pointed to a box of plain folders. Virgil obediently put the pretty folders back and pulled out one of each color from the box.   
  
“I wanna folder!” Gordon grumped as he sat on the floor with his arms crossed.   
  
“You don’t need a folder for Kindergarten.” Their grandmother was collecting a small pile of cheap notebooks as well as large packages of pencils for them to share.   
  
“I wanna folder!”   
  
“Fine, how about this yellow folder?”  
  
“I want a squid folder.”   
  
“There aren’t any squid folders.”   
  
“This store is stupid.”   
  
“Gordon.” Virgil knelt down next to his brother and poked him on the arm. “How about you get the yellow folder and I’ll draw you a squid on it.”   
  
Gordon frowned a little deeper and finally nodded. “Okay, I guess that will do.”   
  
“Thank you, Virgil. Now we just need to get Gordon a backpack.”   
  
“I need a new backpack too, the strap is ripped.” John made his way over to a black bag that was printed with the universe on it.   
  
“John, no, I’ll see if I can fix your bag. We can’t afford new bags for everyone—not when you all needing clothes as well.”   
  
“Are we getting our clothes here?” Scott had been quiet, just doing as their grandmother had asked of him.   
  
“Yes, we are. Like I said, we have to cut some corners.”   
  
Virgil watched as Scott frowned but nodded. He still didn’t quite understand what was going on.   
  
They were able to satisfy Gordon with a plain backpack with the promise that Virgil would draw some fish on it as well—he was going to have a busy weekend decorating all of Gordon’s things he wasn’t going to have time to draw on his own, but that was okay if it made his brother happy it made him happy.   
  


School came, and routine was once again in place with the family. Virgil started in the second grade, and took his duty as big brother seriously walking Gordon to Kindergarten everyday and meeting him after school as well. He made sure Gordon did his homework before going out to play and even helped him with it when he was too frustrated to keep going.   
  
After a few weeks, Virgil even found himself sitting at the piano for the first time in over a year. He was hesitant at first, lightly hitting one key or another, but soon one finger became two, and soon a song came out. He was rusty, very rusty, and he made more mistakes than he would have been happy with before. They were silly mistakes and he shook his head, but he kept going, playing as much as he could remember.   
  
“I was starting to wonder if you’d ever play again.”   
  
Virgil jumped and the notes that came out made even him cringe a little. He turned to look at his father who was leaning against the wall watching him. “I guess I just wasn’t ready.”   
  
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”   
  
Virgil watched his father, but he just smiled at him. He turned back to the piano and plucked at a couple of the keys. “I sound horrible.”   
  
“Start practicing and you’ll get good again.”   
  
“I don’t have a teacher.”   
  
“We’ll find you a teacher, if that’s what you want. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you if you don’t want to play again.”   
  
“Mom would be sad that I stopped.”   
  
“She probably would be, but I think she would understand if you didn’t want to play anymore.”   
  
“I want to. My playing made her happy. If I learn to play good again, maybe I can make other people happy as well.”  
  
“I’m sure you could. But I want you to play because you want to, not cause you think Mom would want you to.”   
  
Virgil frowned a little, not quite understanding the difference, but nodded. “I want to keep playing.”   
  
“Alright, I’ll start looking into teachers then.”   
  
Virgil heard his father move behind him but thought he had left the room. A moment later he sat down on the bench next to him though and put his arm around him.   
  
“I’m afraid I won’t be as good as Mom wanted me to be.” Virgil played with a couple of keys, the sound as weak as his voice.   
  
“Your mom only wanted you to be as good as you wanted to be. She wanted you to enjoy the music not think it was something you had to do. If you ever want to stop, just say so. No one will think badly of you.”   
  
Virgil nodded and leaned into his father a little. “I miss her.”   
  
“We all do.” His father leaned down and kissed him on the head. “Why don’t you start practicing like your mom taught you?”   
  
Virgil nodded and sat up a little straighter, his hands on the keys. His mom had taught him songs, songs that would help him learn the keys and learn to play certain combinations well. He started slow, and concentrated on what he was doing, not noticing that his father had disappeared into his office once again.

His father had found a teacher within the week and Virgil was once again practicing his music. His teacher was impressed with what he could do even though it had been over a year since he had actively played. However he still had a long way to go to get back to being able to play what he had been practicing the year his mother had died. 

* * *

 

Second grade was a challenge for the young boy, more math, harder spelling, and just more complex ideas all around. Virgil, however, loved all his subjects, but of course none as much as art and music which he started to get back into with much enthusiasm.   
  
Still the idea of money bothered him. He hadn't quite figured it out yet, but he also had yet to ask anyone to explain it to him. His grandmother would mumble about not having enough, their father would talk about cutting corners, and even Scott mentioned that there just wasn't as much as they used to have.   
  
However, Virgil just observed most of these things until one fall day when he had decided to go out to his mother's field to draw. He had gathered his things as soon as he had gotten home, and told his grandmother were he was going—grabbing some apple slices as he went—and headed out.   
  
The field his mother had taken them all to at one point or another was a mile or so away from the house. It was a good field that often had wildflowers and tall grass—great for drawing, playing hide 'n seek, or tag. It was also far enough from any other house that the sky would be lit up with stars at night. Virgil was hoping to come out with John one night while he looked at the stars, he wanted to try and draw them.   
  
But when the field came into view Virgil's mouth dropped open in shock. The late season flowers and tall grass was gone. The ground had been churned up and was turning a light shade of brown in the late afternoon sun. He could even see the tractor in the distance as it finished plowing up the last of the summer grass that had turned a golden brown.   
  
Virgil turned and ran as hard as he could back to the house. He was huffing and puffing when he burst in through the back door startling his grandmother and little brothers as they were eating their afternoon snack.   
  
"Virgil, what is wrong?" His grandmother squatted down next to him, a hand on his shoulder as she tried to smooth down his tousled hair.   
  
"M-mom's f-field! It's gone!" Virgil's eyes were wide as he continued to try and catch his breath.   
  
"Oh dear, he didn't waste any time at all did he?" His grandmother shook her head and sighed.   
  
"You knew?" Virgil couldn't help but let his mouth hang open even wider. Everyone knew about their mother's field. There was a reason they called it that in the first place.   
  
"I didn't think he'd plow it up until next year, that's what he was talking about at least."   
  
"Grandma!"   
  
"Virgil, it's okay." She looked up at him and took his face in her hands wiping away a stray tear that had fallen. "Your father sold the field to Mr. Hammond. It's his now."   
  
"But it was Moms'!"   
  
"I know, but we weren't using it, and we needed a little extra money. Let me talk to him. If he's okay with it, I'm sure you can still go star gazing out there, and once the crops start growing in the spring there will be something to draw again."   
  
"But it won't be the flowers."   
  
"No, it won't. But things change, and you've just got to go with flow."   
  
Virgil frowned, too many things had been changing, and while he understood what his grandmother meant, it didn't mean he had to like it.   
  
He darted from the kitchen, his grandmother calling his name, but he ignored it. He made his way up to his room and threw his things on the floor. He paced for a little, unsure what to do, but then decided to see if Scott had known about this as well.   
  
He made his way to his brothers' room and peeked around the door.   
  
"What do you need, Virgil?" It was John who had spoke, even though he hadn't moved to look at him.   
  
"How--"   
  
"Alan and Gordon are eating their snacks. Shouldn't you be doing your homework?" John had finally turned to look at Virgil a slight frown on his face.   
  
"I got my homework done at school." Virgil pouted and almost forgot why he had come into the room in the first place, but Scott had also turned around.   
  
“What’s the matter Virgil? I thought you went out to draw.”   
  
“Mom’s field!” The sudden rush of memory made every inch of Virgil’s skin prickle as tears started to flood his eyes again. “It’s gone Scooter!”   
  
“Whoah, hold on.” Scott was on his knees looking up at Virgil, his hands on his shoulders. “What do you mean it’s gone?”   
  
“The grass, it’s gone! Mr. Hammond plowed the field!”   
  
“Why would he do that? We own the field.” John was out of his seat now, his brows scrunched together.   
  
Virgil shook his head. “Grandma said Dad sold him the field cause we needed money.”   
  
“That’s stupid!”   
  
“John, hold on.” Scott sighed and stood up his hand on Virgil’s back as he led him over to the bed. “Come over here as well, John. I think we need to talk.”   
  
“Scooter, what is going on?”   
  
“I’m sure you’ve heard Grandma and Dad talk about money.”   
  
“Yeah, but I don’t understand why?”   
  
“You studied money last year didn’t you?” John sat up on the bed next to him and put his arm around him.   
  
“Yeah, I can count it alright, but I’ve never heard them, or Mom even, talk about it much until now.”   
  
“That’s cause Dad’s not an astronaut anymore. They gave him money to go to the moon and Mars and stuff. Now he’s not getting as much money as before, so we have to buy cheaper things or not as many things as before.” Scott was trying his best to explain, Virgil could tell, and he appreciated it for sure.   
  
"So, we're poor?"   
  
"Not quite poor, but we just can't do the things we used to. Dad probably sold Mom's field so that he could buy us something or just help with the lack of money. I agreed not to go to camp this next year—”   
  
"Wait." John sat up straighter. "Does that mean I can't go to Space Camp?"   
  
"It depends on how his business is going. But you might have to skip it next year."   
  
"What about my piano lessons?"   
  
"I don't think he'd take those away after letting you start again, but I know Gordon's wanting to swim more so I don't know if he'll be able to start him on swimming lessons or not." Scott was frowning, but forced a smile back on his face. "This isn't permanent. Dad's business will get bigger and then we'll be really rich, but we just gotta deal with it for now."   
  
Virgil nodded, not liking what he had learned, but still he understood enough to know that he was the lucky one among his brothers. He was getting his lessons, but Gordon and John may be losing the things they want to do. He decided that he was going to tell his dad that he didn't need to continue his lessons anymore.

"You're doing very good, Virgil. I'm quite impressed." She was a full time piano teacher, had many students and was highly recommended, or so he father had told him.  
  
"Thank you." He never knew what to say when people praised him on his playing, it took a lot of practice and concentration so he felt happy when he heard it, but still felt silly accepting the compliment.   
  
"In fact, I have something here I'd like to show you." She reached down next to her and picked up her purse, dug inside of it and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She carefully unfolded it and showed Virgil the glossy picture on the front.   
  
Virgil took the picture and read it. "Kansas State Uni--"  
  
"University."  
  
"University Piano Recital." Virgil cocked his head a little and looked up at his teacher. "Is this a big recital?"   
  
"Very big, and it would be a huge challenge. Their auditorium will hold a couple of thousand people. Plus if you want to study music, there is the chance to get recruited by a premier music school."   
  
"But there aren't any music schools around here." Virgil frowned a little, still remembering his first recital with his mother.   
  
"No, you would have to move to a city somewhere else, but you would get scholarships and sponsors to help pay for everything."  
  
"They'll give me money?"  
  
"Yes, for you to study music. You couldn't just use it on anything." She was smiling down at him. "Is that something you would want to do?"   
  
"Maybe. I'll talk to Dad about it."   
  
She nodded and left the flyer with him, giving him a pat on the head as she departed.   
  
Virgil didn't go straight to his dad, though. He went up to his room to read over the flyer a bit more. He could still remember his first recital, and the argument his parents had had afterwards. He didn’t want to leave his family, but if he could get someone else to pay for his lessons, for his schooling, his father would have the money for Gordon to have swimming lessons and John could go to Space Camp.   
  
He looked down through the flyer, it was going to cost money to enter the recital and he’d have to send in an audition video as well. It wasn’t going to be easy to get in, and he was going to have to work hard to make a good impression, but this was for the good of his family, so he made up his mind to do what he needed.   
  
He sat on his bed for only a moment longer before he made his way down to his father’s office. He knew his father was busy and didn’t want to catch him at a bad time so he peeked into the room and saw him sitting at his desk, reading something on the projection in front of him. Virgil knocked lightly on the door and his father jumped a little at the sound.   
  
“Oh, Virgil. Come on in. I could use a break.”   
  
Virgil took in a deep breath and went in. It occurred to him then, that he probably should have prepared something to say. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for. To participate in the recital for sure, but he didn’t want to tell his father about his plan just yet.   
  
“Come up here. What’s on your mind?” He reached down and picked Virgil up, setting him on his knee.   
  
“There’s a recital next spring. I wanna play in it.”   
  
His father sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “You and your recitals.” He chuckled a bit. “So what recital is this?”    
  
Virgil had the flyer in his hand and held it up for his father.   
  
He took it and read through the information a few times before he sighed and looked down at him. “This is a big recital. Why this one?”   
  
“My teacher said it would be challenging for me.”   
  
“And I’m sure it would be. What I’m not sure is, why you want to challenge yourself this much. I could see maybe in a year or two, but why now?”   
  
“I want to see how good I am.” Virgil wasn’t looking at his dad, but down at his hands. He really should have thought this through before coming to see him.   
  
“Considering how much this costs I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now. Maybe in a year or two after you’ve been practicing a bit.”   
  
“What if I paid the fee?”  
  
His father let out a short chuckle. “And how do you intend to do that?”   
  
“I’ll find a job.”  
  
“No. No jobs for you. You’ve got to work on your grades. You spend too much time practicing your piano and painting as it is.”   
  
“But Dad.”   
  
“No buts.” His father lifted him back down to the floor and lightly hit his rump to send him along out the door. “Go get you a snack, tell your grandmother I said it was okay.”

* * *

 

Virgil had failed in his attempt to get his father to let him enter the recital so he though maybe his piano teacher would have a better chance. He had given her the same excuse. He had told her that he wanted to challenge himself and to see where he stood next to those where were really talented, to give him motivation. He didn’t mention the sponsors or the schools and when she asked about them he just shrugged and said he was still thinking about it.   
  
So, after practice one day, his teacher went to his father’s office and knocked on the door.   
  
“Mr. Tracy, may I have a word with you?”  
  
“Sure, have a seat.”  
  
“I wanted to discuss your decision not to let Virgil perform in next spring’s recital.”   
  
Virgil was sitting just outside the door listening in to the conversation. He could hear his father sigh at the topic and the creak of his chair as he leaned back.   
  
“I know he put you up to this.”   
  
“I won’t deny it, but I think he should be able to perform. These recitals are a great opportunity for the students to showcase what they have learned.” Virgil couldn’t see her, but imagined she was sitting straight and looking his father straight in the eyes. Many people were intimidated by his father, but she seemed to be able to stand up to him where others couldn’t.  
  
“I can hear him clearly from here what he has learned. He’s coming along quite nicely.”   
  
Virgil couldn’t help but grin broadly and stomp his feet lightly in excitement at the comment.   
  
“Yes, which is one reason I would like him to participate. This recital, especially, is important. Virgil is quite talented. It would be good for him to know just where he stands.”   
  
“Where he stands? He’s seven years old, he doesn’t need to be worrying about that quite yet.” His father laughed a little at that.   
  
“He doesn’t have anything to compare himself to. It will be hard for him to tell how good he's becoming and how hard to work.”   
  
“No, I’m sorry, but that is my decision.”   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
“Look, I know you are just trying to do what you think is best for him. I am too. And since I am his father, my idea of what is best outranks yours.” He sighed and the chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Virgil’s playing has grown greatly because of you, and I appreciate all you do for him. I just don’t think he should be worrying about things like that. Music shouldn’t be his career. A hobby, sure. But he needs a career that will get him places.”   
  
“Music can get you places.”   
  
“If you are lucky.” His father chuckled. “No, I mean something in the sciences. He has an interest in machines. If we’re lucky, maybe there’s an engineer in him somewhere.”   
  
“Or a mechanic.” Virgil heard her gasp and clasp her hands over her mouth a moment later.   
  
His father just laughed. “That is a possibility, but there will always be a need for mechanics. But music, there are only so many notes and only so many combinations. There is not near as much need for people to manipulate what we already know.”   
  
There was a long slow sigh from his teacher. “Very well, if that is how you feel. I won’t bring the subject up any more.”   
  
“Thank you for understanding.”   
  
Virgil could hear their footsteps as his father walked her to the doorway of his office. She looked down at him and smiled before making her own way out of the house.   
  
His father was standing in the doorway, watching him as he watched her leave. “Virgil?”   
  
Virgil looked up at his father, a frown on his face, his heel scuffing the floor beneath him.   
  
“Come in.” His father turned and disappeared back into his office.   
  
Virgil slowly stood and followed him in. He stood to the side of his desk, his eyes downcast, and his hands in his pockets.   
  
His father sat back down in his chair and turned to look at his middle child. “Why are you so determined to be in this recital?”   
  
“Mom would have let me.” Virgil had had time to think about his reasons for wanting to be in the recital and was prepared for his father’s questions this time around.  
  
“You didn’t answer my question.”   
  
“I did.” Virgil closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before looking up at his father. “Mom would have let me. If she were still here she would have let me be in the recital. I want to be in it because it is something she would have wanted as well.”   
  
“That is true, but she is not here and just wanting to be in it is not a good enough reason.”   
  
Virgil swallowed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He had the reason on his tongue and it was a good one too. However, it was something he didn’t want to share with anyone because it was something his mother had given to him alone. He felt that if he shared it, it would no longer just be his.   
  
His father was still watching him, waiting for an answer.   
  
Virgil took a deep breath and resigned himself to what he knew he needed to do. “After I had started learning, Mommy told me that when I played, it reminded her of happy times. Times when she was young, playing with friends. Times when she was older and performing at her own recitals. She even said it reminded her of when she first met you. She wanted me to play in recitals so that others would be remind of their own happy times. She wanted me to spread that happiness to all that I could. I can’t do that if I only play here. I can’t do that if I don’t know how I need to improve. I need to be in the recital so that I can get better and play for others and make them happy as well.”   
  
His father’s eyes had suddenly become red, bloodshot and wet. He was leaning back in his chair with his hand over his mouth. He quickly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “That does sound like something you mother would say.” His voice was a little thick sounding and he cleared his throat again. “However, I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”   
  
“Why not?” Virgil dropped his jaw, how was his reason not good enough?   
  
“Well, the money is still an issue. As well as your grades.”   
  
“I’m getting Ss in everything!” Virgil’s chest felt tight, and tears were stinging the corner of his eyes. It wasn’t fair.   
  
“Do you know what the S means?”   
  
Virgil shook his head, crossing his arms.   
  
“It means you’re doing Satisfactory work.”   
  
“Isn’t that good?”   
  
“It’s okay. Both Scott and John always did Outstanding work when they were in second grade.”   
  
“Os are hard.”   
  
“They had the same teacher. I think you just need to work a little harder. I know you can.”   
  
Virgil frowned some more and tucked his chin into his chest. He was lost, not only was he not able to participate in the recital, but now he was being lectured about his grades.   
  
“How about a compromise.” His father leaned forward and lifted Virgil’s chin so he was looking at him. “If you can get Os on your next report card, you can be in the recital.”   
  
“What about the money?”   
  
“I’ll figure out the money.”   
  
Virgil wasn’t so sure about this deal of his father’s. It wasn’t that he hated studying, he liked learning new things, but he liked playing his piano and drawing as well. If he spent more time studying then he’d have less time to go out and draw.   
  
Still it would be his only chance he knew to help his family, so he took in a deep breath and nodded.   
  
“Good. Now, I think it best if you head up and work on some of that homework.” His father was smiling at him and patted him on the top of his head.   
  
Virgil turned and made his way out of his father’s office, his feet dragging a little as he headed to his room. He had a lot of work to do. He just hoped his father would appreciate it when it came to tell him of his plan. 

* * *

 

It was the beginning of January when they got their semester grades. They were handed out at the end of the day in sealed envelopes. Nobody would see what they got until their parents opened the envelopes and looked themselves. Virgil had tried asking his teacher how he did, but she just smiled and told him not to worry.   
  
How could he not worry when his plans were on the line? How could he help his father if he couldn’t be in that recital? He should have been excited, but worry was the only feeling in his heart.   
  
“Virgil, you okay?” Scott was sitting in the back with him—Gordon and Alan in their car seats between them.  
  
“Yeah.” Virgil sighed, his envelope tight in his hands.  
  
“You worried about your grades?”   
  
Virgil nodded his head, not looking up at his brother.  
  
“Hey, you’ve been studying hard the past few months. I doubt you failed anything.”   
  
“I’m not worried about failing.”   
  
“Then why have you been studying so hard?”   
  
“If I get all Os then Dad will let me play in a recital.”   
  
“I thought he couldn’t afford to pay for that?”   
  
“He’d said he’d figure something out.”   
  
“If he can afford to let him in the recital, then I should be able to go to camp.” John pouted from the front seat.   
  
“Who said you weren’t going to camp?” Their grandmother was driving and glanced over at John with a frown.   
  
“Scott said he wasn’t going to camp cause there wasn’t enough money.”   
  
“Ah, well, that was something they agreed upon. I think he still wants to send you if he can. No promises though.”   
  
“Really?” John was sitting up straight now. “I can still go?”   
  
“I said he was going to try. You’ll have to talk to him for any certain answer. The future is very uncertain at the moment.”   
  
“Virgil.” Scott leaned over and tapped him on the leg. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”   
  
Virgil tried to smile, but it just wasn’t in him.   
  
They arrived at home a few minutes later and filed out of the car—Scott helping their grandmother to unstrap the youngest two. Virgil dragged his bag through the dirt as John ran past him and into the house calling for their father. Even Gordon and Alan ran past him giggling as they immediately started some game only the two of them understood.   
  
Scott was next to him, a hand around his shoulders and Virgil realized he had stopped moving completely. “Why don’t we go in together?”   
  
Virgil just sighed and nodded. His bag was taken from him and he was pushed forward. They made their way to their father’s office just as John ran out of it and up the stairs in a huff.   
  
“Well, guess Space Camp is on the back burner for the time.” Scott forced a half smile as he pushed Virgil ahead of him as their father called out to them.

Virgil’s hands were shaking as he handed the crumpled envelop to his father.   
His father looked from the envelop to Virgil and back again. “Is there anything I should know before I open it?”   
  
“No, sir.” Virgil’s voice felt so weak and wasn’t even positive his father had heard him.   
  
He must have though, cause he just nodded and leaned back in his seat. He laid the envelop on his desk and flattened it out a bit. He reached for the small knife he opened his letters with and slipped the edge under the flap and slit it open cleanly. He pulled out the bright yellow paper and flipped it open, studying it.   
  
Virgil took a step back, but Scott was behind him and put his hands on his shoulders.   
  
“Well.” Their father took a deep breath and laid the report down. “This just confirms what I had thought from the beginning.”   
  
“Was it bad, Dad?” Virgil looked up at his brother who was frowning.   
  
“Hm? Oh, no. It is a wonderful report.” He reached forward and picked it up again, clearing his throat. “From the beginning of the year, I thought Virgil had great potential. He did all his work perfectly, but only did what he was told to do. However, sometime during the middle of the semester his attitude changed and he has turned into our star pupil. He has surpassed all of the students in the class and is already a few chapters ahead in all of our books. I look forward to seeing how far this young man can go.” He laid it back down and turned back to Virgil. “You also got all Os. Which I knew you could do.”   
  
“I did it?”   
  
“Yes, you did. Which means—” He pulled out one of the smaller drawers of his desk and reached into it, pulling out a pamphlet. “I’ll need to fill out this application and scrounge up the money, and you have a audition video to make.”   
  
“You mean, I can play?” Virgil felt the weight on his shoulders disappear and wanted to jump and hug someone.   
  
“However, we’re going to have to figure out a schedule for you. If your mid-terms grades suffer, no recital. You’ll need to keep up your studying and still give yourself enough time to practice your piano. I’m sorry, but you may not have time to paint as much as you used to.”   
  
“That’s okay! I can do that!” Virgil had already realized his drawing was going to have to be put aside if his plan was going to work. He looked back at Scott who smiled and squeezed his shoulder.   
  
“Alright. Go up and do your homework. I’ll call your piano teacher to arrange a practice schedule.”   
  
Virgil ran forward and hugged his father before running out of the office and up the stairs. He couldn’t help but stop by John’s room and give him a quick hug—even though it was met with a grunt—before going off to work on his homework.

They found out the next month that Virgil’s video had been accepted into the recital, and thus Virgil’s work truly started. He would spend the first two hours home from school doing his homework, which really was just studying ahead of where they were and doing any extra work his teacher gave him—he usually got his normal homework done at school. Then his piano teacher would come over and spend the next hour with him on the piano working on the piece for the recital. It was a piece that Virgil had chosen for it’s difficulty. He wanted to impress everyone so he could get all the scholarships so his father wouldn’t have to worry about him at all.   
  
After his lesson it would usually be dinner time. After dinner he was required to spend another half hour going over his lessons, and then the rest of the night was his, though he usually spent an hour going over his books and another hour of piano practice before being forced to bed.   
  
By the time May had rolled around, Virgil had forced himself to work harder than any of them ever expected him to. He was to the point that he was starting to burn himself out.   
  
He was sitting on the floor next to his father’s office, his piano teacher wanted to talk to him after the lesson which had not gone very well. Virgil had missed many notes and was getting really frustrated with himself. He knew he could do it, but instead of it getting easier, it seemed to be getting harder to concentrate.   
  
“Mr. Tracy, I have some concerns about Virgil.”   
  
“I’m sure I already know what you’re going to say.” His father sighed, and his chair creaked as he leaned back. “He’s pushing himself too hard? Starting to get overly stressed?”   
  
“Yes. I know you want him to work hard in school and do well at the recital, but I think you are pushing him much too hard.” Virgil could imagine her, sitting up straight, leaning slightly forward with her hands in her lap.   
  
“The thing is, I’m not pushing him at all. This is his own doing.”   
  
“His own?”   
  
“When he is home, he does nothing but study his books or play the piano. I’ve tried to make him go out and play with his brothers, but even if he does go he’s playing the music in his head and doing the motions along with it. I’ve even cut back the amount of time he’s required to study, but he still does. I don’t know what to do with him. He’s gotten it in his head that he has to do it, and will not listen to any of us.” His father’s chair squeaked again as he leaned forward.   
  
“The recital is in a little over a week. If he keeps this up—” She sighed and Virgil could hear the scrape of the chair as she stood up. “I fear if he is not forced to take a break before the recital he will freeze up, or possibly even faint once on stage. I implore you to find some way of getting him to relax a little.”   
  
“I will do my best.” His father sighed as his chair squeaked again as he stood up.   
  
Virgil heard their footsteps across the floor and scrambled out of the way and back into the living room where he had left his school books, sitting down on the floor acting like he was studying.   
  
His teacher walked toward the door and paused watching him. She pulled her sweater tighter over her shoulders and sighed. “Virgil, I won’t be by until next Thursday.”   
  
“What?” Virgil jumped to his feet, his book forgotten. “But I need to practice.”   
  
“Yes, but not at the expense of yourself. Take the time off. Have you painted anything recently?”   
  
Virgil frowned and looked down.   
  
“Well, then, how about this?” She glanced back at his father who just stood and watched. “Instead of practicing on the piano. I want you to draw the music. Not the notes, but what is in your heart when you play. Can you do that for me?”   
  
“What does that have to do with being ready for the recital?”   
  
“Everything.” She nodded back at his father and then left.   
  
“Why don’t you go to bed early Virgil? Get some sleep.”   
  
Virgil was still watching the space where his teacher was. How could he not practice? He had to practice to get good! To get sponsors! To help his family!   
  
“Virgil!”   
  
Virgil jumped.   
  
“Go to bed.”   
  
“But Dad.”   
  
“No buts. It’s Friday. There’s no school tomorrow, so no studying tonight.” He walked up to Virgil and held out his hand. He stood there, until Virgil finally put his book in it. “Tomorrow, you can start to work on your assignment your piano teacher gave you. I think it sounds like a good idea.”   
  
“Dad!” Virgil tried again, but stopped at the look his father gave him. He sighed and finally made his way upstairs.   
  
He wasn’t tired, it wasn’t even that late. He flopped down on his bed—Gordon still awake on the floor playing, and rolled over so he was facing the wall. He didn’t want to paint. He didn’t have time for painting.   
  
“Virg?”   
  
“Leave me alone.”   
  
“You wanna play?”   
  
“No. Just leave me alone.”   
  
“You wanna hear a joke?”   
  
“If I listen to your stupid joke will you leave me alone?”   
  
“Yep!”   
  
“Fine. Tell me a joke.”   
  
“Knock, knock.”   
  
Virgil could only sigh. “Who’s there?”   
  
“Me!” Gordon jumped up on the bed and landed on top of Virgil.   
  
“Get off!” Virgil tried to push Gordon off of him, but the blond headed menace was clinging to him tightly.   
  
“Can I sleep with you?”   
  
“No, sleep in your own bed.” Virgil gave another push and finally Gordon let go and slid off of the bed. He went back to his toys on the floor, though a little quieter than he had been before.  
  
Virgil had fallen asleep at some point, but woke when he felt something climb up on the bed and lay next to him. He turned over and in the light of the glow-in-the-dark fish he could see Gordon’s blond head curled up next to him. He sighed, the kid had always hated it when one of them was upset. Had even slept in Alan’s room when he was sick once. So really it was no surprise that he had been sleeping with Virgil as of late. Virgil just sighed and turned over, pulling his younger brother towards him and falling back to sleep. Maybe he would try drawing in the morning. He probably did need it.

Virgil had tried, he really had. But no matter what he drew, it was stupid and horrible. He couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head about what could happen if his father ran out of money; They wouldn’t have food, they’d have to wear old clothes, they might even have to move out of their house. The worst thoughts were if he couldn’t take care of all five of them, maybe he would split them up. He didn’t want to imagine a life where his brothers would be taken away from each other.   
  
The week came and went. His father wouldn’t even let him practice his piano, so he buried himself in his studies. He was still nervous, and when his teacher finally came back he was still making mistakes. However there was little else she could do but encourage him on.   
  
When the day came for the recital, Virgil was more than just beside himself, he was almost in hysterics. His grandmother had to dress him, his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t even button any of his buttons. Gordon wouldn’t leave his side, and about had a fit when they told him he couldn’t go backstage with Virgil.   
  
His father was supposed to be back there with him. Him and his teacher, but his father was also supposed to meet them there, and he had yet to show. So instead, Scott was there, his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing it occasionally.   
It was getting closer to Virgil’s time. He held his music in one hand and tried his best to breath, but was finding it increasingly difficult.   
  
“Virgil.” Scott had squatted down next to him, his hands on Virgil’s arms holding them tight. “Virgil, look at me.”   
  
Virgil did, and nodded, but it was taking all he had to just breath.   
  
“Stop looking at the stage and the door.”   
  
Had he? Oh, he had. He was doing it again.   
  
“Virgil. Look at me.”   
  
He looked again, captured this time by Scott’s own eyes.   
  
“You’ll be fine. Take a deep breath.”   
  
Virgil frowned, he had been taking deep breaths.   
  
“No, deeper.”   
  
So he took a deeper one.  
  
“Deeper still. You’re barely breathing. Suck in air till I tell you to stop.”   
  
Virgil nodded and started to breath in. More and more he inhaled until he felt like he was about to pop.   
  
“Now, let it out slowly.”   
  
And Virgil did. Through his nose he let the air out, all of it, until he was completely deflated.   
  
“Now do it again.”   
  
And he did, deep in, all the way, and then out.   
  
“How do you feel.” 

Virgil stopped to think about that. He had stopped shaking a bit. Breathing wasn’t as bad as it was. “Better.” It was a small voice, even for Virgil.   
  
“Good. Do it one more time, for me.”   
  
Virgil nodded and complied.   
  
“Alright. It’s time.” Scott stood and turned Virgil toward the stage.   
  
Virgil widened his eyes a little, he had lost track of the time. He felt a little freaked out, and hesitated, but when Scott pushed his back he stumbled out onto the stage.   
  
The audience was quiet, but he could still hear some rustling as they adjusted their seats. There was a muffled yell that he assumed was probably Gordon. He glanced out to the mass of people beyond the lights, but he couldn’t see them, just blackness. He breathed in and out.   
  
He climbed up on the bench and laid his music on the stand in front of him. One more deep breath like Scott told him and he laid his fingers on the keys.

His mind had went blank as he played. He just let his fingers do what they needed. He really didn’t know how he did, wasn’t sure how many mistakes he had made. He just played. When the last note died away, the room was silent. And for that moment Virgil thought that maybe he had been horrible, had performed so badly they were all stunned. Then they exploded. Everyone started clapping at the same time, loud and there were yells, multiple yells. Not only from his brothers but from others in the room.   
  
He blinked and tried to look into the audience again, but it was still nothing but black. He grabbed his music, and slid off of the bench, bowing real quick before dashing off the stage and away from the attention—he wasn’t sure he necessarily liked it all that much.   
  
Scott was waiting for him and grabbed him into a big hug as soon as he reached him. “Virgil, that was brilliant!”   
  
“Was it?” Virgil looked up at him, clear that he wasn’t sure himself.   
  
“Yes. That was the best I’d ever heard you play!”   
  
“Really?” Virgil was starting to break from the fear a little. He had done it, and apparently had done it well. “Did Dad see? Is he here?”   
  
“No, he got stuck at work.” Scott was frowning, and looked like he was ready to hit something.   
  
“He said he’d be here.”   
  
“I know.” Scott just held him closer.   
  
“Excuse me, Virgil Tracy?”   
  
Both Virgil and Scott looked up at a small group that had gathered in front of them. A man had spoken and stepped in front of the others. He wore a nice black suit and had his hair slicked back.   
  
“What do you want with my brother?” Scott had gone defensive and pushed Virgil behind him.   
  
“Are your parents around? I’d like to talk to them.”   
  
“I’m afraid his father couldn’t make it.” It was his teacher, she had been standing there the entire time watching them.   
  
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was curious to see if Virgil would be interested in our school.”   
  
Virgil perked up at that.  
  
“I’m sorry, but his father is not interested in—”  
  
“Wait.” Virgil pushed his way past Scott and walked up to the man. “I’m interested.”   
  
“Well, then, I’ll give you my card. Have your father call me and I can give him the details.”   
  
Virgil took the small rectangular card and nodded. After him one of the others handed him another card and another. Soon he held six cards and they all smiled hoping to hear from him soon.   
  
Virgil looked down at the shiny cards for a moment before looking up at Scott. “I’m ready to go home.”   
  
No more was said about the the cards as they left the venue and made the long trek home. They arrived home long past any of their bed times, but Virgil was still awake, the cards in his hands. This had been the whole reason he had pushed himself. To get these. Now he could go to school, learn piano, and his father wouldn’t have to worry about paying for him. That money could go to his brothers and their interests.   
  
His grandmother woke up Scott and John, then between the two they carried Alan and Gordon into the house. Virgil just held the cards as if it were made of gold. They went straight upstairs, but Virgil bypassed the stairs and went to his father’s office. The light was on, so he knocked on the door.   
  
“Come in.” The reply was gruff, but Virgil didn’t care, no matter his mood this should make his father happy.   
  
He pushed open the door and peaked inside. His father was still in his suit, his tie pulled loose and the top buttons undone.   
  
He looked up at Virgil and seemed to force a smile on his tired face. “Virgil. I am so sorry. I lost track of time and when I realized it it was too late.” He pushed himself away from the desk and held out his arms to pick Virgil up.   
  
Virgil stopped just out of reach.   
  
His father frowned and kept his arms out for a moment before letting them fall. “What’s wrong son? Are you that mad at me?”   
  
Virgil shook his head, but couldn’t quite find the words he was looking for. Instead he just stuck out his hands with the cards still in them.   
  
His father frowned and leaned forward taking them from him and looking down at them. “What is this?”   
  
Virgil had to clear his throat a little before he could get the words out. “Music schools.”   
  
His father’s frown deepened as he examined the cards he held. “I can see that. From all over the country as well.”   
  
Virgil nodded again. “I can get scholarships to pay for my school. Then you wouldn’t have to pay for me. John can go to Space Camp and Gordon can swim.”   
  
His frown seemed to deepen even more. “Is this the reason you pushed yourself so hard this year?”   
  
Virgil nodded. “Scott said you needed money. That’s why he couldn’t go to camp this year. It’s why you sold Mom’s field. It’s why things were changing.”   
  
His father took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He flipped the cards onto his desk and patted his leg. “Come here. We need to have a talk.”   
  
Virgil hesitated for a moment but then walked over and climbed up onto his dad’s lap. “Am I in trouble?”   
  
“No.” His father let out a small chuckle. “You are a smart one, Virgil. Almost more than what’s good for you. However, I think you have a bit of misinformation as well.”   
  
Virgil just frowned at him.   
  
“Surely you remember the last time someone offered for you to go to a music school?”  
  
Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I’d have to leave and live in the city.”   
  
“Even knowing that you did this so that your brothers could go to camp and have their own lessons?”   
  
Virgil nodded again. “I wanted to help.”   
  
“Even if that meant—” His father reached over and picked up one of the cards. “Moving to New York?”   
  
“Is that far?”   
  
“Very.”   
  
“If it helps, I’ll go.”   
  
His father readjusted himself and pulled Virgil a little closer. “Back in September when I sold your mother’s field, we were a little tight for money, but that wasn’t the reason I sold it. I had gotten a good deal on it, and we weren’t using it. I took that money and put most of it in the bank for you boys. Something your mother would have approved of, I’m sure.”   
  
“So the money for the recital?”  
  
“Came from your share. I was hesitant to dip into it, but you were so adamant about it—”  
  
“But what about Space Camp? John was acting like he wasn’t going to be able to go!” Virgil twisted a little on his father’s lap to look up at him.   
  
“I didn’t want to raise his hopes in case something did come up, but John will be able to go.”  
  
“And Gordon’s swimming lessons?”   
  
“They start this summer. I was waiting to see if he’d still be interested, though I really shouldn’t have doubted him.” His father chuckled a bit.   
  
“What about the other stuff?”   
  
“Well, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, so we cut a few corners just in case. We built up a savings so that we could have something should an emergency arise.”   
  
“So we really don’t need money?”   
  
“We might have to shop here in town instead of going to Wichita, but other than that, I think we’ll be fine.”   
  
Virgil felt a shiver run through him, felt like everything that had been holding him together had just snapped. He turned and buried his face in his father’s chest and started to cry. “I thought—” He hiccuped. “I thought we wouldn’t be able to afford food. I-I thought we’d have to leave the h-house. I thought we might even be s-split up.”   
  
“Oh Virgil.” His father wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. “Shh, my boy. There is nothing in this world that would split us apart.”   
  
Virgil stayed there, until he had cried all his tears. Until he felt empty and lifeless. He wasn’t asleep, but almost. He could feel his father pick him up and carry him up the stairs. Heard him murmur something to his grandmother before going into his room and laying him own. He could feel him undress him, and throw a night shirt and pants on before tucking him in his own bed and kissing him on his head.   
  
Virgil lay there awake for a bit. He thought that he should have been happy, but that wasn’t quite what he felt. It was still an emptiness that he couldn’t quite describe.   
  
“Virgil?”   
  
Virgil opened his eyes and looked up at Gordon, his soft brown eyes looking down at him.   
  
“You okay?”   
  
Virgil thought about it. He didn’t feel quite okay, but it was a good enough answer for now. “Yeah. I think.”   
  
“Can I sleep with you?”   
  
“Sure, come on in.” Virgil held up the blanket and Gordon crawled in and curled up next to him.  
  
“You’re not leaving are you?”   
  
“No. I’m staying right here.” Virgil pulled Gordon closer and buried his face in his hair.  
  
They both fell asleep like that, and when Virgil woke the next morning, his worries, his fear, everything seemed to have run away in the night. He was no longer empty, or sad. Yet, he wasn’t quite happy yet either. He took his paints and went out into what was once his mother’s field and painted.


	5. Movement IV: Lo sforzo

The next year proved to be much more enjoyable for Virgil. He still worried about his family, and the lack of money. He did what he could to help; he generally skipped his afternoon snacks so his brothers had more, he didn't complain about the quality of their school supplies and worked extra hard to decorate his brothers' stuff with their favorite things, and he helped Scott keep an eye on the younger two so that he had time to help their Grandma to not ruin dinner.

Relations with his brothers had also improved, for the most part at least. Scott always made time to help him or to give him advice even though he spent most of his time helping their grandmother. He helped her in the kitchen and also watched his brothers if she needed to go anywhere—like when Gordon had swim practice. But even with his busy schedule Scott sat aside time to spend with Virgil, whether it was to talk or to look at the things Virgil had done at school. For Virgil, Scott was the best biggest brother anyone could have, and he hoped he could be just as good a brother to Gordon and Alan as Scott was to all of them.

Gordon continued to be a bit of a pain, but Virgil adored his little brother. He was fun to play with and had an awesome imagination. Virgil tried his best to be a good big brother and tried to teach Gordon right from wrong, but he wasn't always sure his lectures were heard. Gordon was always much more interested in having fun than sitting and listening. Still, Virgil enjoyed taking him and Alan out into the fields of an afternoon and watching them play while he drew.

Alan had grown up quickly—Virgil still remembered his first look at him in that bassinet at the hospital, so tiny and precious. The young boy was now four-years-old and did his best to keep up with his older brothers. He was nothing but smiles and laughter, though unlike Gordon—who ran full speed from morning to night—Alan loved naps and was often found asleep just about anywhere. Virgil loved hanging out with his littlest brother. If Virgil was on the floor drawing or coloring, Alan sometimes ended up next to him drawing and coloring as well or even asleep curled up next to or spread eagle across Virgil’s back. Virgil sometimes wondered if Alan wasn’t part cat.

John was, well, John. It wasn't that Virgil disliked John, he loved all his brothers, but John was the one Virgil just didn't quite understand. He had always preferred reading books to just about anything else and was never one for snuggling or hugs in general, but he had always been polite and helpful if Virgil needed him. As they got older, though, John seemed to become more distant. In the past he sat in the living room with them all no matter how noisy they got. He even played with them when they went outside. Recently, he just hid in his room or hid up on the roof reading or studying and only spent time with the others when they all went out and looked at the stars. John seemed to separate himself from the rest of the family, though Virgil only had guesses as to why. He still helped if asked, smiled and congratulated each of them when they had done something good. Still, Virgil felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn’t able to understand him. That rift only widened in the year to come.

 

* * *

 

Third grade proved to be even harder than second, but Virgil enjoyed it in a way he never had in the past. First grade had been a place to learn new things, but he enjoyed it more for the friends he had made than for the learning. He always did what he was told to do and thought that you could only go as far as what the teacher wanted you to do. The subjects had always been easy, but that had been okay for he could spend more time on his art and music.

Second grade he had found out that he could learn more than what had been taught and found learning much more enjoyable than he had in the past. However, that year had been so full of stress and anxiety he hadn’t allowed himself the time to realize that he had enjoyed that learning until well into the summer after.

Third grade he decided he wanted to continue to learn, but to do it without pushing himself so hard this time. He enjoyed all of his classes, and stayed a few chapters ahead of the rest of the class in all of their subjects. School though, wasn’t just for learning. He generally spent the day helping the teacher and other students with their assignments and tasks. He did his homework during silent reading, or at home after school. He had made friends with everyone in his class—even the new boy that had transferred to the school that year. He had started teasing Virgil and called him a teacher’s pet, but Virgil just ignored it and eventually sat down and helped him with his math. After that the teasing stopped and they had become friends.

The year was uneventful. Virgil had signed up for a talent show that would occur just before the end of school, but it was just one put on by the school and nothing major. He had decided as well to make this recital more fun than last year’s. Instead of picking a technically challenging piece, he picked something that was fun to play. Considering that Gordon and Alan often came in and danced as he practiced he felt he had chosen a good song.

Virgil assumed the year would end much as it had started, happily and stress free. He was in his room looking over his sheet music while Gordon rolled around on the floor discharging the pent up energy he has stored up at school. He wasn't supposed to have piano practice that night, but planned to practice on his own if Gordon didn't need too much help with his own homework. It was quiet, except for Gordon’s mumbled conversation with his toys, and Virgil jumped when his father’s voice echoed throughout the house.

"Boys!" It wouldn't have mattered where they were hiding, they would hear it and if they knew better—and they all did—they would come to his call.

"Come on, Gordon." Virgil jumped off his bed and headed out of the room knowing Gordon would reply to the summons at his own pace. He made his way down to his brothers' room and peeked inside. The lights were out, Alan was fast asleep on the floor, and the window hung open. He sighed a little and stuck his head out looking up toward the roof. "John! Dad's calling us."

"I'm coming."

Virgil could hear him scrambling above him, so he just walked over to Alan and shook him awake. "Come on, Dad's calling."

"Dinner?" Alan was still asleep and just moved his head away from Virgil.

"Alan, wake up." Virgil shook him a little bit more and the young boy finally pushed himself up and watched his brother blearily.

"I'm up." It was a bit of a slurred reply, but Virgil was sure John would see him if he fell back asleep so Virgil just flipped on the lights and made his own way downstairs.

"Do you want me to go get Gordon?" It was Scott, standing next to their father at the bottom of the stairs—he had probably been in the kitchen helping Grandma.

"He's not a baby anymore. He'll come."

“But—"

"Just be patient." Virgil could see the smile on his father's face as he made his way down the stairs. That at least meant nothing bad was going on, so he let out a little breath he had been holding.

"I woke Alan up, he'd fallen asleep on the floor again." Virgil reached the bottom of the stairs next to his father. "John's on the roof."

"What did I tell you about tattling on your brothers?" His dad raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't mean it that way. I was just letting you know where they were." Virgil frowned a little. He really didn't tattle that much. Okay, so he had tattled on John once for being on the roof without permission, but he had been afraid he'd fall off.

"Then you need to watch how you say things. It's easy to be misunderstood if you don't."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Virgil. Sit up here next to me." Scott was already on the couch patting the seat next to him.

Virgil made his way over and climbed up next to his brother, still a little annoyed at their father's assumption. "It's not like John's ever actually gotten in trouble for being up there."

Scott pulled him over and ruffled his hair a bit. "Don't worry about it. Dad will do what he deems fit."

Alan appeared at the bottom the stairs a moment later rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Is it dinner time yet?"

"No, son. I just need to talk to everyone."

Alan nodded and made his way into the living room. Scott stood and picked Alan up sitting him down next to Virgil where he snuggled up next to him.

Virgil put his arm around him and pulled his littlest brother in close.  

"Gordon! John!" Their father's voice echoed once again through the house. It was met this time by a rather loud thump and John running down the stairs.

"Stop." Their father held up his hand causing John to backpedal as much as he could. "What have you been told about running in the house?"

"Sorry, sir." John ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the floor.

"And about going on the roof?"

"Use a ladder?"

"Try again."

"Not to do it without your permission."

"And did you have my permission?"

"No, sir. But you—“ John looked up at his father ready to argue.

"That doesn't matter. Take a seat." He lightly pushed John toward the couch.

John huffed and flopped down on the far end and pulled out a book, leaving a large gap between him and Alan.

Alan was dozing off again, but seemed to feel the movement of the cushions and looked up. His face broke into a large grin as he crawled over to John and plopped down in his lap.

Virgil frowned a little, disappointed that Alan had chosen John over himself, and crossed his arms turning a little away so he wouldn't have to look at his brother.

"Gordon!" Their father bellowed up the stairs for a third time.

"I can go get him." Scott was half off the couch, but their father's raised hand stopped him.

Virgil strained his ears a little and could hear a lazy thump thump thump and then a heavier thump at the top of the stairs.

"I swear you are going to be the death of me." Their father pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back up to the last of his sons. "Are you hurt?"

"No." Gordon was trying to be serious, though, Virgil could hear his tiny giggle.

"Is there any reason why you can't pick up the pace any?"

Virgil could hear Gordon clear his throat and try to lower his voice a little. “No."

"Then why aren't you?"

"I don't know." There was another giggle as a few more thumps on the stairs were heard.

"Gordon Cooper Tracy." Their father started out in a low growl as he slowly approached the seven-year-old, who was sliding down the stairs on his rear. "If you don't hurry up I may just have to do something about it."

"Like what?" He was still trying to keep the laughter in but failed horrible.

"Like this!" Their father lunged forward and caught the young trouble maker by the waist, hauled him upside down, and then held him with one hand while the other started to tickle his ribs.

Gordon screeched with laughter and screamed as he struggled to escape from his father's grasp.

"Dad! If you keep doing that, he's never going to learn!"

Their father deposited the bright red huffing boy on the couch next to Virgil and smiled at Scott. "One of us has to be the strict one."

Virgil glanced back and forth between his eldest brother and father, not quite sure he understood the exchange between them.

Their father just laughed and waved Scott's own confusion off and moved over to his own chair and sat down. "Do you lot know where I've been?"

"Parent-Teacher conferences." John sighed as he turned a page in his book, Alan fast asleep in his lap sucking his thumb.

"Exactly. And I have learned quite a bit about you four. Good and bad."

"It wasn't me!" Gordon jumped to his feet and bounced on the couch.

"Sit down." Virgil pulled on Gordon's shirt causing him to crash down on top of Virgil. Gordon squealed and Virgil grunted as Gordon's skinny elbows poked him in the stomach.

"Virgil, don't pull your brother like that." It was Scott hovering over them, trying to get a hold of Gordon's arms as he tried to grapple with Virgil.

Virgil pushed Gordon away a little and Scott was able to pull the young one off and deposit him on his other side forcing Virgil down the couch a little father.

Their father just sat and watched with a little smile on his face. "I don't even want to know what you didn't do, Gordon."

Virgil leaned forward and looked at Gordon who was pouting a little on Scott's other side.

"However, your teacher is satisfied with your progress in your lessons. However, I think you could try a little harder."

"School is boring."

"Remember our deal. No studying, no swimming."

Virgil couldn't help but smile a little when he heard Gordon grunt a little at that. It was kind of nice to know he wasn't the only one who had to work harder in school to be able to do what they wanted.

"Also." Their father leaned forward a little, focusing on Gordon. "She did ask that you stop hogging all the time with the class fish. Everyone needs to have a chance at feeding them and taking care of them."

"But they're too rough with them! Greg was trying to take one of them out of the tank with his hand!" Gordon stood again, his hand on Scott's head to keep his balance.

"Then you need to tell your teacher when he does that. She will take care of it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Gordon flopped back down on the couch with his arms crossed.

"Also, stop bringing in crickets from recess and putting them in people's hair. They don't particularly like it."

"That's what makes it so fun!" Gordon grinned and got up on his knees bouncing a little.

"Or worms."

"Worms are cool!" He waved his arms through the air like the wiggly worms.

"And especially not spiders."

"It's not my fault they scream and kill them."

"Gordon."

"Yes, sir." Gordon flopped back down again, his lower lip sticking out extra far.

Their father couldn't seem to help but smile as he leaned back into his chair again and turned toward John. "Would you mind putting that book down for a moment?"

Virgil noticed that John hadn’t been reading quite as fast has he usually did, and kept glancing up at their father. He carefully laid his book on his lap, still open to the page he was reading. He had his bottom lip between his teeth and was watching their father closely.

"You are doing quite well in your classes, especially Math and Science."

"Did you ask—did you see if I could—“

Their father held up his hand stopping John's ramblings. His smile faltered a little as he took in a breath. "I talked to your current teacher, the principal, and the fifth grade teacher. We all seem to agree that for right now, it would probably be best if you stayed with your class."

"But Dad, I'm bored in that class."

"I know. We talked about that as well. While you're grades in Math and Science are wonderful, you still need to work on your other subjects. You do just enough to get buy and that's not going to cut it. If you want to get ahead of the other students you need to be work harder than them in all subjects, not just two."

"That's not fair."

"You will get more challenging work in those two subjects and you will be expected to work harder all around. That's the way it's going to be." Their father gave him the look that said it was the end of the discussion. "I also have one other thing to warn you about."

"What?" John had closed his book, no longer interested in it, and Virgil thought that if Alan wasn't still asleep on his lap he'd be back up in his room by now.

"Your attitude. Yes, you know more about Space than anyone else in that room. However, that does not give you the right to correct everyone if they happen to get something wrong."

"But she keeps telling them wrong information! Like, she said that humans wouldn't last a second in the vacuum of space, but they can last up to two minutes! You just have to exhale, instead of breath in!"

"Yes, I am well aware of that fact—having done it myself once. Not something I would like to re-live, believe me." Their father closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "Regardless, if she says something that you believe is inaccurate you can go up to her after class and mention it to her. There is no need to call her out on it in front of the class. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." John huffed a little as he leaned on the arm of the couch clearly annoyed.

Their father took in a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment before rocking back a little and turning back to where the three of them sat. "Scott."

Scott sat up straight at his name. "Yes, sir."

"Your teacher says you are doing quite well. Music is still your weak point, though I think you only have to worry about one or two classes from here on out. I've arranged for some placement tests going into middle school for you to take this summer. We're hoping for you to get placed in some of the more challenging subjects so that you can get a head start on your high school curriculum like we discussed earlier."

Virgil listened as Scott talked to their father. He seemed to understand everything he was being told, but Virgil was a bit more confused. He didn't quite understand why Scott would want to take tests over the summer, or even what a curriculum was, let alone what it had to do with high school. But whatever it was, he knew he didn't need to worry about it too much. Scott knew what he was doing, and Virgil was only going to be in fourth grade. He still had three years before he had to worry about middle school, let alone high school.

"Who's going to make sure Virgil, Gordon, and Alan get on and off the busses next year?"

"John will do just fine, I'm sure."

"John has his nose stuck too far in his books. He forgets half the time to get himself off the bus." Scott frowned a little looking down the couch at John who was still pouting a little.

"I do not."

"You do too. I had to lean over someone today to get your attention cause you had your headphones in and were reading."

John didn't have a reply to that and just turned his head away and humphed again.

"I can do it." Virgil had been trying to fend off Gordon who was trying his best to slip behind Scott and bug him. He had one hand on Gordon's head holding him back, while he raised his other hand getting his father and older brother's attention. "I know where we get off at."

"What do you think, Scott?"

Scott turned and narrowed his eyes at Virgil for a moment before breaking out into a grin. "Yeah, I think he'll do just fine. He needs more big brother duties anyways." Scott reached out and ruffled Virgil's hair a little before pulling Gordon out from behind him and leaning back in his seat again.

"Now for Virgil."

Virgil's smile faded a little. He had been a little nervous—afraid that his father would want him to study even more. He enjoyed school, but he wanted to be able to do more than just study all the time like John did. Plus he was still a little afraid—even though he knew he was getting all Os—that his father would take away his piano lessons if he wasn't studying as hard as he possibly could.

"Virgil?"

Virgil jumped a little, not realizing he had spaced out for a moment thinking. He looked up at his father who was just smiling down at him. "Sorry, I'm probably not doing as good as I did last year."

His father sighed, but his smile stayed put. "No, but that's okay. You're still doing quite well. In fact your teacher had nothing but good things to say about you. Polite, attentive, always helping others, and offering to help her with everything."

"Wow, we have a bonafide teacher's pet in the family." Scott smiled down at him and gave him a small squeeze.

"I wanna pet the pet." Alan rubbed at his eyes as he looked around for the mentioned pet, but with none in the vicinity he sighed. "I'm hungry."

"Go on and see if your Grandma has anything you can snack on. Just don't eat too much, we will be having dinner soon."

Alan crawled off of John's lap and stumbled a little—still half asleep—into the kitchen.

"What's a teacher's pet?" Gordon was over his pout and was bouncing a little on the couch again.

"It means the teacher likes you." John mumbled from where he still sat, staring at the wall.

"Am I a teacher's pet?"

"Teacher's pets also don't cause trouble." Scott shook his head a little and tried to put a calming hand on Gordon's shoulder, but it didn't help.

"Oh, well, that's no fun. I don't wanna be one then."

Their father chuckled a little at that, but turned his eyes back to Virgil. "Your grades are wonderful. You're performing at an above average level on every subject."

"That's just an O isn't it?"

"I think on your report card it'll say O+. But that's not important. Your teacher, the principal, and I all agreed that next year, instead of joining your friends in fourth grade, you are going to skip ahead to the fifth grade."

"Virgil, that's awesome!" Scott cheered as he pulled him into yet another hug.

"What!" John had turned to look at his father his eyes wide. "Why does Virgil get to skip and I don't?"

"I already told you why." Their father sighed a little and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"I make just as good of grades as Virgil does!"

"It's not just about the grades, John. A lot of it has to do with attitude. As much as you would want to, you can't go through life only learning Math and Science. Yes, you memorize the facts needed to pass tests and get the good grades, but you don't see the bigger picture."

“I see it alright. Virgil was always mom’s favorite so you’re just doing this because of her!” John threw his book onto the couch as he stood and stomped out of the room.

“John!” Their father was half out of his chair when they heard the back door slam shut.

“Dad, do you want me to—” Scott was half out of his seat as well, his brows drawn looking all worried again.

“No, we’ll let him release some steam and then I’ll go after him in a bit.”

“Momma loved me too!” Gordon lip was out again, only this time it was starting to quiver a little.

“Of course she did. She loved us all equally.” Scott sat back and pulled Gordon up next to him, stroking his hair and comforting him a little.

“Dad, I don’t want to skip grades if John can’t.” Virgil was frowning as well. He had never thought his mother had favored him over his brothers, but then he had never really thought about it. If that was the case, then John deserved just as much to skip grades as he did. “John is smart and he actually wants to skip a grade. I think you should give him the chance.”

Their father was still sitting on the edge of his chair, his arms resting on his knees. “Virgil, I know you want to help your brother, but this a situation that is out of your hands. You need to concentrate on yourself. The decision has been made, anyways, you would have been bored in fourth grade.”

“I wasn’t bored in third.”

“Is it just because of John that you don’t want to go into fifth?”

Virgil shook his head a little. “My friends won’t be there.”

“No, but they will be right next door. You’ll still have lunch and recess with them. And knowing you, you’ll make new friends as well.”

“But I don’t know everything that John knows.”

“No, you’ll have to focus on getting caught up. However, from what your teacher told me, you won’t have much to go to be there.”  

The room was silent for a moment as Virgil thought about it. He still didn’t think it was fair, but his father wasn’t giving him any choice in the matter at all.

“Don’t worry about John, Virgil.” Scott had wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, and Gordon had crawled over him and sat on Virgil’s lap his arms around him in a tight hug. “John won’t stay mad. By the time summer is here he’ll be okay again and we’ll all go out and look at the stars like always.”

Virgil leaned into his brother and squeezed Gordon back as well. “I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Scott had, unfortunately, been wrong. By the time summer came around John still seemed upset. He said very little to their father, and even less to Virgil himself. Virgil tried to talk to him, but John would just turn his back and walk away. Even when Virgil went to talk to Scott, if John was in the room he would just leave.

Virgil didn’t like not being on talking terms with John. He had even gone to their father and asked him again if he could just stay in the fourth grade, but his father wouldn’t budge on the subject.

When it had come time for the first family picnic and star gazing trip out into the fields John wouldn’t even go. Virgil couldn’t enjoy it if he knew he was the reason John wasn’t there. So when it came time for the second outing of it’s kind, Virgil pretend that he wasn’t feeling good so that he could stay at the house and John would go. Virgil hated it, but he knew how much John loved stargazing so he made up one excuse after another all summer so John would be able to go.

Scott wasn’t of any help either. He had tried to talk to John, but John just wouldn’t budge—or rather when Scott brought up the subject John would just walk away. Scott tried to reassure Virgil, telling him that he was sure John couldn’t keep this up forever, but Virgil wasn't so confident in either of his brothers.

 

The first day of school came, and nothing had changed between Virgil and John. The only one in the house that didn't seem to notice the rift between the brothers was Alan, as happy and carefree as always—or probably just too young still to see the issue going on.

Normally Scott would walk each of them to their classes on that first day. However, Scott was now at the middle school and didn't have time to do that before he had to be back on his bus.

"Everyone together?" Scott was standing just outside of his bus, Virgil and his other brothers were gathered around him. "You guys be good, alright?" He was aiming the comment at Gordon, but Gordon was busy looking around for his friends. Scott just sighed and turned his eyes onto the littlest of them who was clinging to his leg. Scott squatted down so he was on his level. "Alan, you behave as well. Do what your teacher says, okay?"

"I wanna stay with Scooter."

"Sorry, squirt. I gotta go to a different school. You have Virgil and John here if you need them. Okay?"

Alan shook his head and clung to Scott even tighter.

Virgil had Gordon in one hand, but squatted down as well, "I'll show you where John and I will be, and Gordon will just be across the hall if you need us. I promise you'll like your teacher. She's really nice."

Alan nodded a little but still didn't want to let go of his big brother. Scott pried a hand off of his shirt and held it out to Virgil. In an instant Alan was clinging to Virgil's side glancing around at all the people wandering around in front of their school.

"John, are you going to take them to their rooms?" Scott was back on his feet again, looking to his next brother.

John had his back partially to them and his nose in his book like always. "Why can't Virgil? He's the genius, should be an easy job for him."

"John—"

"I'm gonna go talk to Tom and Chad. See you later." He held up a hand in a half wave and then was gone.

"Virg…"

"It's okay. I'm starting to get used to it." Virgil sighed. He wasn't, but he didn't want to worry Scott with him at a new school and all.

"Virg!" Gordon was starting to really pull on Virgil's hand. "Come on. I wanna play with my friends!"

Virgil looked down at Gordon and could tell that it was just an excuse to get them moving, and out of the situation. Virgil nodded and they said their goodbye to Scott as he stepped up onto his bus.

"Alright, you guys heard Scott, you gotta behave. I don't want to get called out of my class cause one of you got in trouble."

"I promise." Alan's voice was almost a whisper and he was still clinging to Virgil's leg as they walked down the hall.

"John and I will be down that way. In the room with the big five on it. If you need anything just come down, okay?"

Alan nodded a little, but didn't say anything.

"Don't worry. Mrs. Hammond is a really nice teacher. You'll love her."

"Allie! This is my room! Over there!" Gordon was pulling on Virgil's arm, pointing to the room with a two on the wall next to the door. "If anyone is being mean to you just let me know and I'll—"

"Gordon!" Virgil frowned down at the hyper blond.

"I'll tell the teacher." Gordon corrected, but gave Alan a wink which got a small giggle out of the nervous boy.

"Here is your room, Alan." Virgil pulled the group back to the other side of the hall. The room was quickly filling up with kids and a few adults. Virgil could still remember his first day of Kindergarten. His mother had brought them and stayed in the room for the first hour. He wished he could do the same with Alan, but he had his own class to get to.

"Virgil, Gordon! Wonderful to see you two again." Mrs. Hammond was the type of woman that was always smiling, even when she scolded you she still had a little smile on her face. If you ever made her frown then that was when you were in big trouble, but not even Gordon hadn't been able to do that, so no one knew what it would take—and no one dared to even try. "And this must be the last of your brothers then? Alan is it?"

"You know my name?" Alan looked up at her wide eyed.

"Of course! I know all of my student's names, and all of their brother's names as well. Why I remember meeting you for the first time when Virgil first came to my class. You were just a baby in your mother's arms at the time though. You sure have grown into a fine young man, haven't you?"

"You knew my mom?" Alan looked up at the woman a little wide eyed.

"A little. Anything you want to know just ask. I'll try my best to answer, though your brother's knew her better than I did."

Alan nodded and let go of Virgil's hand starting to become a little curious about the room beyond.

"You gonna be okay?" Virgil was hesitant to let his littlest brother go.

"They have loads of blocks! I can build a city and then fly a plane around it, or pretend their alien planets and go exploring like Dad!"

Mrs. Hammond laughed a little as she took Alan's hand. "I see you have a good imagination. Come, let me introduce you to some of your classmates."

Virgil watched as she led Alan into the room, wishing once again he could stay and watch for a bit.

"Come on, Virg! Time to go to my room now!" Gordon was pulling on Virgil's other arm now.

Virgil sighed and followed Gordon back across the hall and to his room.

Mr. Matt was standing at the door greeting his students as they arrived. He saw them approach and crossed his arms, but with a smile still on his face. "Gordon Tracy. I have a few rules for you before you come into my room."

"Like what?" Gordon frowned and mimicked his teacher's stance.

"No hogging the fish. We have a schedule, and you need to abide by it.”

"Are you serious?" Gordon stuck his lower lip out as far as he could.

"Perfectly so."

Virgil couldn't help but smile at this. Looked like Mr. Matt had been warned.

"Alright." Gordon relented and grabbed Virgil's hand again. "Can I at least look at them?"

"Only during scheduled times."

"And I thought you were going to be the fun teacher." Gordon's shoulders slumped a little in defeat.

"Are you ready for the other rule?"

"There's more?"

"Are you listening good?”

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Nothing from outside comes inside without permission."

"Ugh!" Gordon flopped his head back and rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to abide by my rules?"

"I don't have much of a choice do I?"

"Not unless you want me to be calling home."

"Fine." Gordon huffed and stomped into the room.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of your brother." Mr. Matt smiled down at Virgil. "Oh, I also heard you're in fifth grade now. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Virgil still wasn't all that excited about it, but tried to put on a smile.

"Best get going though, bell's about to ring."

Virgil nodded and waved as he turned and walked back down the hall and to his own room. Virgil walked into his room just as the bell rang. Everyone else was already at their desks, so Virgil walked to the only desk left open—right next to John.

He paused next to it and looked around the room. They had name cards on their desks, and he noticed they were all in alphabetical order. So of course, he was next to his brother. On top of that the desks were paired together, so not only was he next to his brother, but the desks were butted up next to each other as well.

Everyone was watching him as he stowed his things in his desk, everyone but John that was. John was sitting in his chair, his nose in one of their textbooks and didn't even acknowledge that Virgil had shown up. So, he just sighed and sat down picking up his own books that were laid out on the desk and started to look through them.

They didn't talk once during the entire day. Even when they were supposed to work together on something, John just kept to himself so Virgil did too. It was really exhausting. He was glad when the final bell of the day rang and he could have an excuse to get away.

Alan and Gordon were already halfway down the hall and practically tackled him when they reached him. He gathered them up in a hug and then ushered them toward the door once he was sure they had remembered to bring all of their stuff with them.

They got onto the bus and all sat together in one of the seats. John appeared just before the bus took off and sat in the first seat, a good ways away from them. Alan climbed over Virgil and ran over to sit next to John and to show him the picture he had drawn.

Virgil couldn't help but frown. He hated how Alan always ran to John, and how John always accepted him and listened to what he said regardless if it had to do with space or not. He also hated that he felt that way. Alan had every right to want to be with all of his brothers. Virgil was just—well, he didn't know what his problem was. He didn't want to come to dislike his brother, but slowly he was finding himself thinking those exact thoughts and he hated it.

Virgil had thought that second and third grade were difficult, but in fact he really hadn’t known what difficult was. His teacher had given him a study packet to work on. She expected it back within the month. Supposedly this packet was to get him caught up with the rest of the class. There was about fifty pages for Math and Science, and then he was expected to write an essay so she could judge his English skills. As for his Social Studies, well, that involved a small book on the history of Kansas and a report after he had read it. The only thing Virgil knew for sure, he’d have plenty to work on to keep his mind off of John.

He would spend the entire day working on his packet while he listened to the teacher talk about whatever subject they were on. He would then go home and work on it some more. The farther he got in the packet the more he understood what was going on in the classroom. That was a good feeling, but Virgil also had the feeling it was making John even more mad. Virgil started to wonder if he wanted him to fail.

After the first month of school, and a plea for an extension on the packet, Virgil was allowed to go out and paint after school, but once dinner was over it was homework till bedtime. Each day Virgil thought he would fail. He thought that he would have to go face his father and tell him that he couldn’t do it, that it was too difficult.

It was weird, he had pleaded with his father not to force him to go into the fifth grade. Now that he was there and struggling to do the simplest of homework he was afraid of being sent back to fourth grade. His father had faith in him, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. At the same time, if he went back down maybe John would start talking to him again.

It was near the end of November. Thanksgiving was just a week away, and then just a few short weeks and it would be Christmas. Virgil got off the bus with his brothers and watched as Gordon and Alan ran off to use up some of the pent up energy they had gathered up at school. John had disappeared straight into the house without a word and Virgil was just walking slowly up the drive wondering what he was going to do.

They had gotten another test back. He hadn’t failed it. At least, according to his teacher he hadn’t. But when he had always gotten A's and B’s on things, getting a C- felt horrible.

In truth he had completely forgotten about the test, but had been more concerned with a paper that was due just before Thanksgiving break. The test was tucked inside his backpack, nice and neat, the big blue C- clear at the top. He knew he needed to tell his father, what he didn’t know was if he should ask to go back down to Fourth grade or not.  

Virgil decided that his relationship with his brother was more important than anything. He was going to go into his father’s office, and ask to go back to the Fourth grade after Christmas. It would just be the best for everyone.

Virgil frowned a little when he reached the door. He had to make sure he caught his father in a good mood, otherwise his chances of failing his mission increased significantly. He put his ear to the door and held his breath. He could hear the low mumblings of his father and even a chuckle as he talked to someone. That was a good sign, he was in a good mood.

Virgil took in a breath and tapped lightly on the door. He could hear his father stop abruptly so he tapped a couple more times to make sure he had been heard.

“Come in.”

Virgil pushed open the door and peeked around it.

His father was in his chair and smiled when their eyes met. “Ah, Virgil. John said you had gotten your tests back.” He turned back to the hologram of whoever he was talking to and turned it off with a quick promise to call back.

Virgil was still lingering in the doorway when his father turned around to face him.

“Come on in. Is it that bad?”

Virgil pulled his backpack off his shoulders and sat it down on the floor. He opened it up and pulled out the offending folder that had the test in it. Carefully he pulled out the test, stuffed the folder back into the bag and let it flop over onto the floor. Then he walked over to his father and handed it over without even looking at him.

His father took the paper and examined it for a moment before laying it down on the desk next to John’s with his big red A+. “A C- is pretty low for you.”

“This just goes to prove I can’t do it. That I need to go back down to Fourth grade.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why not? I’m not getting any better, in fact I’m getting worse!”

“We knew you would struggle, Virgil. This is proof of that, but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed.” His father sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Virgil glanced up at him, but he wasn’t looking at him anymore, but out the window.

“Is John still not talking to you?”

Virgil just shook his head.

“I’ll have another talk with him.”

“No, don’t. It won’t make anything better.”

“His anger should be focused on me, not you. You did nothing wrong.”

“If you let me go back down to Fourth grade after Christmas I bet he’ll be better. He’ll get over it.”

“I doubt it. And I’m not going to let you quit that easily. You’re still passing. You’ll probably need to study a bit over the breaks, but I have faith that you’ll make it out of the year with a B at least.”

Virgil sighed as he turned and made his way out of his father’s office. He wished he could be as optimistic as his father was, but he just couldn’t see how he was going to survive the year.

 

* * *

 

It was March and Virgil wanted to cry. It wasn’t getting any easier, things just seemed to get harder and harder. He had even asked his teacher for help, and had skipped recess to get that help, but it didn’t seem to make any more sense the second time around than it did the first time his teacher tried to explain it.

He had thought to ask for Scott’s help, but Scott was busy with his own stuff. Not only was he taking some higher level classes himself, he had also joined the track team. He practiced every day after school, came home for dinner, and then went up to his room to do his homework. There was no way Virgil was going to interrupt him for his own sake.

Virgil didn’t know what he was going to do though. That week had been particularly bad. They had taken a math test on Monday, and Virgil thought he had done pretty good on it—not perfect, but he had stopped expecting As. They had gotten the test back on Wednesday and Virgil had gotten a D. He had never gotten a D in his life—it didn’t matter that this was the first year he was getting letter grades. He had never gotten anything less than satisfactory, and a D was definitely in the unsatisfactory category. That was worse than even the needs improvement one.

His father luckily didn’t know yet. He was out of town on a business trip and wouldn’t be back till that weekend, so Virgil had a few days before he had to face his father. He hadn’t even told his grandmother yet either, even though she had asked him how he did, he just shrugged and said he had to do his homework, escaping upstairs.

Virgil had thought if he could figure out what he had done wrong, he would at least have something he could tell his dad. Two days later and he was no closer to understanding his mistakes. Their father was due home the next day and he was quickly running out of time.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

The whisper came from his left, but he didn’t look at who said it. His hands were tight in his hair about ready to pull it out in frustration. “I know I’m doing it wrong. I just can’t figure out how!”

“Shhhh!” Virgil looked up at their substitute teacher. “This is quiet study time. No talking.”

“I’m trying to help my brother.”

Virgil blinked and looked to his left. John had looked up as well and was staring down their sub.

“You’re brothers? You don’t even look alike.” The sub scoffed at him and then looked down at the book he had been reading.

“If you had bothered reading our names, you’d see that we both have the same last name.”

The sub looked up again and squinted at them. “Well, so you do. Doesn’t mean anything really. Regardless, it is quiet study time. So hush it.”

Virgil could hear a small growl come from John, which surprised him. He usually wasn’t this vocal about things, especially him.

“Bring it to recess. I’ll help you.”

“You talk one more time and I’m sending you to the office.”

Virgil just stared at him, but John didn’t look at him again after that, just back down to his own work.

Recess came and the entire class rushed to get out of the room and to a little bit of freedom from their strict sub. John had disappeared with the rest of them, leaving Virgil behind like he had been doing all year. Virgil started to wonder if he had just imagined what had happened earlier. Still he took his homework out with him just in case.

He looked around and found John sitting under one of the large oaks that surrounded the school. He had his nose in his book and Virgil hesitated. If he had imagined it, this would probably not end well. But if he hadn’t—

He took it step by step, and made his way over to John. John must have seen him coming because he looked up at him and smiled. Virgil froze. It wasn’t a bad smile, it was just it had been so long since he had seen John smile at him.

“Sit down and I’ll help you.” John patted the grass next to him as he closed his book and laid it off to the side.

“Why?”

“Because you need help. You did get a D on that last test.”

“I’ve been struggling all year and you never offered to help me. You haven’t even talked to me. Not even a hi, how are you, how are you doing? Nothing. I’ve been struggling all on my own without anyone’s help. I wanted to go back down to Fourth grade, but dad wouldn't let me. He said he had faith in me, but I can’t do it. I’m failing and I don’t know why and I can’t figure it out and you have been no help what so ever! So why are you so interested in helping me now?” Virgil was holding his book as tightly as he could to his chest. His fingers were digging into the hard cover as he tried his best not to cry. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I didn’t want to skip grades, but I had to. And now I’m struggling and I don’t know what to do. I tried asking for your help at the beginning of the year, but you would just ignore me, turn your back, or just walk away. Nothing I said or did made a difference. I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again. So why now? Why are you willing to help me now?”

John’s smile had disappeared and his eyes had looked away from him and down at his hands as Virgil spoke. He clenched his hands a few times before he finally sighed and stood. John had grown, he was about an inch or two taller than Virgil now—he was probably almost as tall as Scott.

“I-I’m sorry. I have no excuse, and nothing I say will make much of a difference I know, but I was mad and I was taking it out on you. I wanted you to fail. If I couldn’t skip a grade, then why should anyone else. I worked just as hard as you did, I deserved it as well. But Dad chose you and I resented that.”

“What made you change? What’s different now?” Virgil was still clinging to his book, biting his lower lip a little to keep the tears from overflowing.

“Before I just ignored you and everything you did. I didn’t want to know how much smarter you were than me. After Christmas though, I started to watch you again and realized that you weren’t doing better. You looked stressed. It reminded me of the year of the piano recital and how hard you had pushed yourself.I was too embarrassed to say anything though. I mentioned it to Scott, but you know how busy he is right now. Said he’d check on you, but I don’t know if he ever did. I was afraid I had gone too far and you wouldn't want my help anymore, so I never said anything.” John rubbed his arm a little and fidgeted. “When you got your test back this week though, I saw the grade and—well, I knew my brother was smarter than that. Still it took me a couple of days to get up the guts to say anything. But I did. I just hope, you aren’t so mad at me now for what I did. I regret it. I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and not do it, but yeah.”

Virgil took the few steps to close the gap between them and rested his head on John’s chest. It didn’t take long before the first sob escaped. When it did, John reached up and pulled him close, leaning his head on top of Virgil’s.

“I’ve been a horrible big brother. I’m sorry.” They stayed like that for a bit, before John pulled him away and wiped at his cheeks. “Let’s work on that Math. Maybe by the time Dad gets back we can explain what happened.” He took the book from Virgil’s hands and sat down again, opening it to the page where Virgil’s test was. “Ah, I see what you did here.”

Virgil was still standing, watching John. He wiped at his eyes a bit, tears still wanting to leak out a little.

John looked up at him when he noticed he hadn’t moved. “You do want help don’t you? Or—would you rather Scott help you?”

“No. I’m just—I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and it all be a dream.”

“Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do before tomorrow.” John reached up and grabbed Virgil’s hand pulling him down next to him.

They worked the whole of the school day, both being sent down to the office for talking. The principle just rolled his eyes and let them stay in the library to work instead. Even after they had gotten home, they went straight to Virgil’s room and worked some more, only coming out for dinner and four wide eyed faces at the sudden reversal in their behaviour towards each other. No one said anything though and they just ate in silence.

The next morning when Virgil woke up, his father was already down in his office working. He hesitated though. He was nervous, and didn’t want to show his father the test. Between him and John they had figured out most of his mistakes, but still, Virgil didn’t think anyone had brought in that bad of a grade before and he had no idea how his father would react.

“Virg? You still in bed?”

Virgil glanced up and saw John standing in the doorway. “I’m awake, just hiding I guess.”

“I take it you haven’t shown Dad your test.”

“He’s gonna be mad. He expected me to do better.”

“You know what you did wrong though. That says a lot.” John had walked into the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. “How about we go together. Maybe us both walking in will shock him enough he won’t be able to get mad.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that and remembered the faces of their family at dinner the previous night. “Alright.

With John backing him up he knew it could be as bad so they made their way downstairs and knocked on their father’s door

“Come in.” Their father’s voice sounded strained and even a little tired still.

Virgil glanced back at John his eyebrows scrunched up on his brow.

“Too late to turn back now.” John reached forward and pushed the door open giving Virgil no other option than to go in.

Their father was behind his desk, his shirt wrinkled and his jacket thrown over the back of his chair. He looked tired even, and Virgil wondered if he had even slept at all the previous night

“Ah, Virgil.” Their father looked up at them and blinked. “And John. What do you need?”

“We had a math test this week.”

“Ah, and you got it back I take it. How did you do?”

Virgil didn’t reply, but held out the test before him.

His father took it, and looked down at the blue D on the top and sighed. “I expected better of you Virgil. But maybe you were right. Maybe this is just too difficult for you.”

“I don’t think it is.” John stepped up next to Virgil and put a hand on his shoulder. “He just didn’t understand what we were doing. I helped him yesterday and we went through the test and I think we’ve figured out why he got most of the questions wrong.”

“You went through it together?”

“Yes. It was the least I could do after how I’ve been acting.”

“I can’t disagree with you there.” Their father leveled a look at John who just looked down and let his shoulders sag a little.

“If John helps me, I think I can do better. He can explain it much better than the teacher does”

“And are you willing to help?”

“Yes. I’m doing okay myself, and maybe Virgil could help me understand music and art better.”

Virgil blinked and stared up at his brother. He would have never thought he’d be helping John with art and music.

“If you’re willing to of course.” John smiled down at him and squeezed his shoulder a little.

“Yeah! The art teacher just told me about an artist I think you’d be really interested in!” Virgil couldn’t help but get excited. Ever since he had learned of the artist all he had wanted to do was to share it with John.

Their father leaned back in his chair, a smile back on his face. “Well then, we have just over two months left in the school year. I can’t wait to see how you do.”

 

* * *

 

The two months passed quickly. Virgil and John were almost inseparable, constantly working on their homework, helping each other, and then John would help Alan while Virgil helped Gordon with their work. Sometimes they could all be seen at the kitchen table after dinner together—Alan would often stay even after his was done just to be with his brothers.

Scott continued to practice late, often getting home after dinner and joining them at their study table. Though he would continue to do his homework well after they were done for the night.

They went and cheered Scott on in some of his track meets. Virgil knew his brother was fast, but didn’t realize just how fast he was. He didn’t win anything, but was among the fastest on the team. He would start winning stuff next year, Virgil was sure of it.

 

It was a week after the end of school when his father finally called him and John into his office. They knew he could get the grades anytime and each day that passed seemed to make Virgil more and more nervous.

Virgil had raised his grade, he knew, but what he didn’t know was what his father’s thoughts would be. Would he have him retake Fifth grade and be with his friends again? Or would he insist that he go on to Sixth grade with John. Virgil wasn’t sure which option he was hoping for which made the wait even worse.

“It’s been a rocky year this year, hasn’t it?” Their father was leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach. “I was worried about both of you, but in the end you figured it out and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“How were our grades? Were they good?” Virgil could feel John vibrate next to him. They hadn’t told their father the specifics of how Virgil was helping him to understand art and music better so he was eager to see what his father would say about his progress.

“You both did very well this year, though it only really shows in the last quarter.” Their father raised his eyebrow at the both of them but was still smiling. “I’m quite proud in what you’ve accomplished in the past couple of months. John, I was quite impressed with the notes from your music and art teachers. They say you’ve been more attentive and have been participating more. I’m glad to hear it. Virgil, you managed to get all of your grades up to high B’s, not quite B+’s, but it’s okay. I’m sure if you studied a bit over the summer you’ll be perfectly ready for Sixth grade—if that’s where you want to go?”

Virgil frowned and looked down at his feet. “If I do Fifth grade again, I’ll get to be with my friends, but I know everything already. It’s not like before where I was just a little bit ahead, I’m a whole year ahead now.”

“I thought you might have trouble deciding so I’ve had a chat with the Fifth and Sixth grade teachers and I think we’ve come up with something you’ll like.” He could hear the creak in his father’s chair as he leaned forward, his hand suddenly on Virgil's chin lifting up so he would look up at him. “You’ll be in Sixth grade and be expected to complete that work, but since Music, Art, and PE aren’t that much different you’ll join your friends in the Fifth grade for those classes.”

Virgil’s mouth went slack for a moment before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Yes! I wanna do that!”

“You’ll be missing a class each day, so you’ll be expected to make up that work. I’m hoping John will help let you know what you missed?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” John was smiling too and looking over at Virgil.

“This is what you want to do then?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll let the school know.” He was still sitting forward in his chair, but his gaze moved from Virgil over to John. “You’re not mad that you couldn't skip next year either?”

John was quiet for a moment. “A little, but I think I’ve finally realized why you wouldn’t let me before. Art and Music, there’s more to them than just drawing pictures and singing. Virgil helped me see that there is art and music in the sky as well, in the stars even. Space isn’t silent, and there’s beauty no matter where you look. If I can understand what we know about art and music here on Earth, it may allow us to understand what is out there better.”

“I think you just said it better than I could.” Their father chuckled a little. “Alright you two, we have some serious talking to do.”

“What’s wrong?” Virgil glanced up at John and frowned at his worried expression.

“Settle down, nothing is wrong. I just want to talk with you two about what’s to come. You’ll be going into middle school in a year, and you both need to be thinking about what you’re path in life is going to be.”

“Oh, that’s easy, space!” John was smiling again.

“No kidding.” Their father gave out a full hearty laugh at that and even Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you’ll have to start looking into what it takes to get to space and exactly how you are going to get there. There isn’t just one path but a million.”

“Right.”

“Next spring we’ll be going over your schedules for Seventh grade, and planning ahead for Eighth and Ninth as well.”

“What if we don’t know what we want to do?” Virgil’s voice was a little soft as he looked down at his hands as he wrung them together.

“That’s why I’m giving you a heads up now. You need to start thinking about these things.”

“What if I want to study music?” Virgil was afraid to look up at his father. He knew he preferred the sciences, and didn’t really want him to do music as a career, but Virgil still wasn’t sure what else he would do other than that.

His father gave a heavy sigh and was silent for a long moment. “If that is what you really want to do, Virgil, I won’t stand in your way. However, just be warned that I’m not going to let you go easy on your other subjects. If you want to take the music and art classes, fine, but I expect you to continue challenging yourself in every other subject as well.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say, but just nodded.

“Do you understand why I’m saying that?”

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Well, it’s like with John. You showed him that there is art and music in space and that the subjects aren’t as unrelated as he thought. The same is true of the reverse, there is math and science in music. In addition to that, if you do decide not to do music later in life, you will have the skills to explore other options.”

Virgil still didn’t quite understand but nodded anyways.

“Don’t worry.” His father reached over and ruffled his hair. “You’ll understand in time. Now, it’s summer and you both have spent too much time inside. Go and take Gordon and Alan with you.”

“What about Scott?” Virgil stopped mid turn and looked back at his father.

“I’ll send him out after I’ve talked to him about his grades.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“No, he’s got excellent grades. Now, go, have some fun.”

“Come on, Virgil. How about we take them out and try to catch butterflies?”

“Yeah!” Virgil nodded and followed his brother. He was still a little worried about what his father was talking about, but that was still in the future. Right now it was summer and time to have fun.


	6. Movement VI: Solitudine

Virgil’s young life had not been very consistent. There was life before his mother died, and then there were all of changes that happened after it. Their grandma came to live with them full time, their father changed jobs, John became more distant, Gordon started swimming, Scott seemed to grow up all at once with his homework and sports, and Alan was no longer a baby. 

Only two things had remained consistent for Virgil through the years; his love of music, and his friends. 

Music was what had connected him to his mother—what still connected him to his mother. Music was what made those around him happy—he could even get a smile out of John occasionally, and he loved to watch Gordon and Alan dance when he played. 

So that next summer when his father surprised him with a two week music camp in Wichita Virgil couldn’t quite believe it. He was so shocked he didn’t know whether to hug his father, run and tell Scott, or just jump up and down in pure joy. In the end it was a combination of all three. He jumped, hugged his dad, while still jumping, and started to go off to tell Scott only to turn around and hug his father some more.

Music camp had been an amazing experience for Virgil. He had always played music alone. He didn’t have any idea what it was like to play music with others. He had listened to music on the radio of course, had his favorite artists and bands, songs he would hum or sing for his brothers on demand. But to play with a group, to be only a small part of the music and not the whole of it was something he had never experienced before going to camp. 

But once he had experience it, he wasn’t about to forget about it. 

 

Friends were something else Virgil seemed to be a natural at. He had his core group of friends that he would play with, but anyone would agree that he was pretty much friends with everyone. There wasn’t anyone in school that hated him. 

Even at camp he made friends easily. When asked how he did it he just said he would talk to them, listen, and help if he could. That was all. It was all that was needed it seemed and he would hold onto those friends for a lifetime. But he eventually found that not everyone was open to his friendship and Virgil had to learn to deal with yet another change. 

 

* * *

 

It was early spring and Virgil was sitting out on the steps of the front porch watching the road. He had a sketch pad on his lap, but very little had been drawn on it—every time he heard a car he would look up and watch it drive by. 

Virgil usually tried his best not to bother Scott after school. He had so much homework to do—plus he insisted on always helping their grandma—that Virgil knew he needed all the time he could to get it done. However, it was Friday so he didn’t feel as bad about wanting to talk to his eldest brother. 

Scott was usually the first one he went to for advice. He was the wisest, probably because he was the oldest and always knew the answers to all of Virgil’s questions. He hoped he would once again have the answers to what was worrying Virgil now. 

They had just gotten their scheduling worksheets for the next year. It was nothing more than a list of classes and their descriptions along with the requirements for all the students in middle school. It was also the start of Virgil’s true academic career and the classes they choose for seventh grade would effect what they took in high school and then what collages they could get into. John had gone off to their father’s office as soon as they had gotten home. He of course knew what he wanted to do, and had gone on and on about his plan to attend MIT and that he needed to figure out just what he would take and when to ensure he had what was needed to get there. 

Virgil was pretty sure he wasn’t going to try to go to MIT, but didn’t know where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to do. Music was still up there, but so was art. His father of course would prefer him to take something in the Math or Sciences, but unlike his brothers there wasn’t one aspect of these subjects that he particularly wanted to study. 

Virgil had sketched out a rough shape on the paper while he thought—something that looked like it was half turtle and half plane—but frowned at it and scribbled it out just as he heard a crunch as a car turned onto their gravel lane. He flipped his sketchbook closed and stood. 

The car stopped near the porch, the rear door opened and Scott unfolded himself from inside. He was still talking to his friend as he pulled his backpack and then his duffle bag from inside. With a quick goodbye and a small wave to the driver Scott closed the door and turned to face the house. 

“Hey, Virg!” Scott waved as he approached the steps. “What’s up?” 

“Could you help me with something?” Virgil was hugging his sketchbook to his chest and leaning on one of the pillars at the top of the small set of steps. 

“Sure, can it wait until after dinner?” Scott took the three steps easily and ruffled Virgil’s hair a bit as he passed. 

“Yeah, Grandma’s already in the kitchen.” 

“Any idea what she’s trying to cook today?” 

“I think she said meatloaf.” 

“Hm, I better hurry and make sure she doesn’t forget the egg again.” Scott paused in the entryway, torn on which way to go. 

“I’ll take your bags up to your room.” 

“Thanks, Virg.” Scott smiled as he handed his bags over and took off for the kitchen. 

Virgil made his way up to Scott’s room and had dumped the bags onto his bed before he had even noticed that John was in the room. “You have your schedule figured out already?” 

“Nah, Dad’s gotta call and get some info before we can finalize it.” John continued to work on his homework as he spoke, not looking up at Virgil. “Are you going to talk to him about yours?” 

“No, Scott’s gonna help me.” 

That made John look up at him. “Why don’t you ask Dad? He’ll know more about it than Scott.” 

Virgil just shrugged, “I’m gonna go down and help with dinner.” 

“You finish your homework already?” 

“No, I’ll work on it tomorrow.” 

“Well, if you need help I’m gonna stay up tonight and look at the stars, so I’ll be up late tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” Virgil nodded as he ducked out of the room. 

 

He made his way down to the kitchen just in time to see the meatloaf go into the oven. Gordon and Alan were sitting at the table and greeted him with mouths full of cookies. 

“Hey, Virg, you want to help me peel the potatoes?” 

Virgil nodded and pulled up a stool next to Scott to help. 

 

Dinner was over, John and their father were on clean up, and Scott finally had some time to sit down with Virgil. 

“So, what do you need help with?” 

“My schedule for next year.” Virgil pulled out the worksheet and handed it over to Scott who was sitting at his desk while Virgil sat next to him on Scott’s bed. 

Scott took the sheet and glanced down at it. “Don’t you want to do this with Dad? He’d know more than I do.” 

“I’d rather you help me.” Virgil shrugged, but didn’t look up at him. 

“He said you could take music and art didn’t he?” 

“Yeah, but after Mom died he was hesitant to let me continue lessons.” Virgil shrugged a little. “He eventually let me, but he almost didn’t. And then when I wanted to be in the recital again, there were conditions. I had to do good in school to be able to do it. That remained true for every recital after.” 

“Okay.” Scott seemed to take a moment to think as he leaned back in his chair. “As for that first recital, you about killed yourself.” 

“It wasn’t that bad.” Virgil looked away from Scott not really wanting to think about it too much. 

“Virgil, you were so motivated you weren’t thinking of your own health. You barely ate, barely did anything outside of your school work and practicing your music. I was scared, Virgil. I thought—” 

“Can we please not talk about it. It was a misunderstanding. On my part. I just—”

Scott sighed and reached out, laying a hand on Virgil’s head. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s in the past, just so long as you don’t plan on repeating it any time soon.” 

Virgil smiled a little and glanced over at the worksheet that laid on Scott’s desk. “This is more than just a recital once a year. I want to be in band and take art classes. I don’t know if he’s going to like that. He’s going to want me to take the programming classes and take an extra math class like John.” 

“Virg, you are not John. Dad knows that.” 

“Yeah, but he still expects me to be an overachiever.” 

“He expects it because you are.” 

“I am because he expects it.” Virgil returned the steady stare his older brother was giving him. 

“Do you want to do badly?” 

“No, I’m just afraid that I’ll disappoint him.” Virgil slumped a little. “Yet, at the same time I’m afraid that I’m gonna get forced into doing something I don’t want to do, just to make Dad happy.” 

“What is it you want to do?” 

“I don’t now. That’s the thing. I just don’t know, but he’s expecting us to know.” 

“That he is.” Scott sighed a little and leaned onto his desk. 

Virgil blinked and looked over at his brother, his mouth slowly going slack. “What? Not you? I mean, you’ve always known.” 

“That I wanted to fly and go into the Air Force, yes. Dad wants me to go to the Air Force Academy” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s basically a university just for the Air Force.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“It’s very difficult to get into, and I don’t even know what I want to study if I do get in.” 

“Study flying.” 

“Afraid that’s not one of the options.” Scott laughed a little. 

“So, what are you going to do?” 

“I’ve already started preparing for the application process. I’ve got to make sure I get all my classes in so I can graduate a year early and enter the academy when I’m seventeen. Hopefully by then I’ve figured something out.” 

“And if you haven’t?” 

“I don’t know.” Scott shrugged a little. “You’ve still go time to figure out what you want to do. Even if Dad is trying to force your hand, he knows that it can always be changed.” 

Virgil sighed and slipped a little more. He wasn’t as optimistic about it as Scott seemed to be. “What if you’re wrong?” 

“I won’t be.” 

“You’re really sure about it aren’t you?” 

“I am.” Scott nodded and turned to his desk to lean over the paper. “Alright, you have to have English, Math, Science, PE, and Geography. Are you going to try and get into the advanced classes?” 

“I figured Dad would probably make me take the placement tests this summer.” 

“Yeah, probably. I know John will, so you might as well. Wouldn’t hurt at least.” Scott grabbed his pencil and made a few marks on the paper. “Okay, now you have two to four credits left to fill.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Basically you have two to four classes to choose from. Some classes only last half the year and some are a full year. Like, I took a year of Home Economics so I could help Grandma a bit more. That’s where I learned how to cook a little and to mend holes in clothes. That way we can make things last a little longer. Then you have to have some sort of music class, so I just took a semester of General Music, and the other semester I just did a study hall to get ahead for this year.” 

“I want to take Band.” Virgil straightened up a bit, and leaned forward. 

“Okay, Band is a year class. Do they have pianos in Band?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, you’ll need to figure it out. You have to put the instrument you want to play down and it says the director has to approve it.” Scott leaned back in his chair for a moment, tapping the pencil on his lip. “If you don’t mind waiting, I could swing by and ask the director for you.” 

“Really?” Virgil glanced up at his brother who just smiled down at him. 

“Sure, I can do it before practice.” 

Virgil smiled a little, he had been worried about it himself but didn’t know how he was going to get his answers on his own. “What about the other two classes?” 

“Well, they have a couple of art classes, and—oh, this is a new class.” 

Virgil leaned over to see what Scott was looking at. He was still smiling and glanced over at him. “What?” 

“I think you should try this class.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s an Intro to Engineering class. Kinda surprised they’re offering it to Seventh graders.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s what Dad does now, well, kinda. Engineers basically try to solve problems by making or improving things.” Scott sat up and turned toward Virgil, his eyes bright. “You see, Dad will look around and find problems. He’s not an engineer himself so he hired some and tells them to fix the problems he’s found. They come up with all kinds of ideas and Dad decides which one they will use.” 

“But it’s the engineers that actually do the work?” 

“Yeah, it takes a lot of creativity to do it. You should try it.” 

“I don’t know.” Virgil wrung his hands a bit in his lap. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

“Sure you have.” Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and brought up some pictures he’d taken of Virgil’s art. “All of these pictures of planes, you’ve changed them a bit.” 

“Why do you have pictures of those?”

“Cause I liked them.” Scott smiled as he flipped through to one specific picture. “This is Dad’s plane isn’t it?” 

“Kinda.” 

“Why did you change it?” 

“I don’t know, just thought it would look neat like that.” 

“Have to admit, I’m not sure it would fly with these wings, but it does look cool.” Scott laid his phone down again. “But that would be the type of things you’d do. Anyways, it’s only an introduction class, something to give you an idea of what it is. You did say you weren’t sure what you wanted to do yet, right? It would be a good chance to just try it and see. If you don’t like it, you know that’s not what you want to do. But if you do—“ 

Virgil watched his brother for a bit but in the end just shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Alright. We’ll check that and that means you can either take the general art class or the Drawing I class.” 

“I was wanting to take the painting class.” 

“Well, the Drawing I class is a prerequisite for Painting I.” 

“What’s a prerequisite?” 

“It just means you have to take this first before you can take that.” 

“But I don’t want to take the drawing class.” 

“No problem, I’ll stop by the art room Monday as well and see if there’s anything we can do about it.” 

“I’m sorry you have to do all of this.” 

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Scott reached up and ruffled Virgil’s hair a bit. 

“If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know!” 

“Now that you mention it. I did promise Gordon and Alan that I’d take them out into the fields to play tomorrow. Want to come and help?” 

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah!” 

 

The weekend went by faster than Virgil expected, but Monday seemed to drag on. He was once again sitting on the porch step waiting for Scott to get home. He didn’t have his sketch book this time though, he was too nervous to draw. 

Virgil stood and started to pace across the porch, Scott was running late. Finally, almost a half hour after he usually got home, the car pulled into the driveway. Virgil was bouncing on his toes as Scott got out of the car and thanked the driver. 

“Scott!” Virgil couldn’t wait any longer and hopped over the three steps to the dirt path below. 

“Hey, Virg.” Scott reached out and ruffled his hair. 

“Did you talk to them? The teachers?” 

“I did, but it’ll have to wait until after dinner. What’s the plan for tonight?” 

“I just put a pizza in the oven. Gordon’s at swim practice.” 

“Where’s Alan?” 

“He’s hanging out with John in the living room.” 

Scott paused and frowned a little. “How long have you been out here?” 

“For a while now. I was waiting on you.” 

“And when did you put in the pizza?” 

Virgil’s face dropped as it went blank. He turned and darted into the house, Scott on his heels. They skidded to a halt right inside the door to the kitchen. Their father, John, and Alan were sitting at the table lazily eating a perfectly cooked pizza. 

“You can’t just leave something cooking in the kitchen, Virg.” John was smiling a little. 

“Yeah, Virg! You gotta watch it or you’ll burn it like Grandma!” Alan was reaching for another piece but was stopped by his father’s hand. 

“Save some for your brothers, Alan.” He smiled at the two. “Come along and eat up.” 

 

It was getting rather late when Virgil knocked on his father’s office door. He had wanted Scott to come with him, but Scott had shook his head. He said that Virgil needed to do this on his own. So there he was, waiting for his father to acknowledge him. 

“Come in.” 

His father’s voice made him jump and it took a moment for him to calm down and push the door open. 

“Ah, Virgil, what can I do for you?” 

“I have my scheduling worksheet.” 

“Ah, I was wondering when you were going to come see me about that.” His father gestured for him to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. “So, any idea what path you want to take from here on out.” 

Virgil was afraid he was going to ask that, but took a deep breath and shook his head. “No. Not really.” 

“And how are you going to know what to take if you don’t know where you want to go?” 

“Oh, but I have my worksheet figured out. At least for next year.” 

“Hand it over then.” His father raised his eyebrows a bit, had a small frown on his lips, but held out his hand for the worksheet. 

Virgil had to stand up in order to hand the paper to him, then sat back down in the chair and watched as his father read over the page. 

“You’re planning on taking the placement tests?” 

“I figured you’d want me to, and I have to take the subjects anyways so, why not?” 

“Not quite the answer I wanted, but you’re not wrong either.” His father allowed a small smile before he continued looking. “Band, and you’re going to play the french horn? I’m not even sure what a french horn is. You aren’t expecting me to buy one for you are you?” 

“No, not at all!” Virgil scooted forward in the chair and tried to sit as straight as he could. “Scott went and talked to the director for me. I can borrow a horn from the school. You’ll just have to go in and arrange it for me.” 

“Did Scott help you with this?” 

Virgil shrank back a little. “Yeah. I asked him to help.” 

“I see. Alright, I said you could take music so I’ll do what you need me to.” 

Virgil broke out in a large smile. 

“Now, explain what’s going on with these last two classes.” 

“Scott helped me with this too. He talked to the teachers about it, but again you’ll need to go and finalize it for me.” Virgil started to get a bit animated, his hands waved about as he talked. “The art teacher said I could skip the drawing class and take the painting class. But Scott thought I might like that engineering class, only those two classes are both taught during the second half of the year. So the art teacher offered to let me take the painting class by myself.” 

“As an independent study?” 

“Yeah, that’s what Scott called it.” 

“Seventh graders usually don’t do independent studies.” He leaned forward over his desk. “Do you think you can handle that? Did Scott explain what it meant?” 

“He said I’d be responsible for getting the assignments and doing them and turning them in.” 

“That is correct. And you can’t put this painting class above your other classes either.”

Virgil nodded as he sat on his hands to keep them from shaking.

“Though I think Scott might be onto something with this engineering class. You always did like to know how things worked.” 

“So, is it okay?” 

“As long as all the teachers and the school approves of it, I don’t see why not.” He reached over and grabbed his pen and signed it with a bit of a flourish. “I just happen to need to go to the school for John’s schedule as well, I can finalize yours at the same time.” 

“Thank you!” Virgil jumped up from his chair ready to race up and tell Scott the news. 

“Wait a moment.” 

Virgil froze just feet from the desk and slowly turned around. 

“I appreciate you trying something new, but you do need to really start looking into different careers. Whether its music, art, or something else. Start doing some research and see what you think might be interesting. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Alright, go on, and tell Scott your news.” 

Virgil smiled and dashed out. 

 

The rest of the school year seemed to drag by for Virgil. He was so excited about being in the band that nothing else seemed to be good enough anymore. He still took his piano lessons, but they were starting to lose their luster and by the time his recital came around the excitement just wasn’t there anymore. So when his father suggested that they end the lessons, he was okay with it. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be playing music any longer, just something different. 

Virgil’s last recital was the start to the last week of school. They had taken all of their tests the week before so that this last week was just cleaning, preparing to switch rooms, and for the sixth graders to leave. The whole school was organized and they had two field days where they played against each other—the classes were all mixed together so that the older students would help the younger. They had an awards program for all the grades—John and Virgil sweeping the sixth grade awards easily. And finally a little ceremony were the school said goodbye to the sixth graders.

That had been a bit emotional for Virgil since he was a grade above his friends. Of course he would see them over the summer a few times, but once school started again he would see very little of them. When the younger four Tracys got off the bus for the final time that year, Virgil lagged behind them all. 

Alan and Gordon had taken off around the house, plenty of energy still to burn off before dinner. John was far enough back not to choke on their dust, his backpack filled with all the books that had wandered to school through out the year. 

Virgil was dragging his book bag behind him kicking at the dirt as he walked. He hadn’t really thought about leaving his friends when he went to the middle school, and that day had just shoved it in his face. With everything that went on during the summer, he’d maybe see them a couple of times. Then when school started, he doubted he’d see them at all. 

“You’ll make new friends, you know.” John was next to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“But I liked my old friends just fine.” 

“And they’ll still be your friends, you’ll just make more.” 

Virgil sighed, John didn’t seem to understand at all. But then, he would still see his friends next year. 

They made their way into the house and Virgil barely acknowledged his grandmother before making his way up to his room. 

He sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. He had thought to draw something, but nothing was coming to mind. His only thought was how much he hated having to skip grades. He still didn’t see how it was helping him, he would have still learned the same stuff in the end.

He was so zoned out, that he didn’t hear the small knock on the door, or Scott’s steps as he walked into the room about an hour later. 

“Hey, Virg. You okay?” 

Virgil jumped and spun around wiping at his eyes a little. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Well, let’s see if I can’t improve that a little.” Scott lifted something big and black up over Virgil’s head and let it down with a small thump on the desk. 

“What’s that?” Virgil scooted away from the desk, but his eyes widened when he realized what it was Scott had brought him. “But how? I thought I couldn’t get for another week.” 

“From what I was told, Grandma saw you get off the bus and got the scoop from John. She told Dad who then called the school and talked to the band director. I was called out of my last class half way through and told to bring this home.” 

Virgil was out of his seat and lifted the case over to his bed, eager to open it. He laid it flat, flipped open the latches with a click, and opened the lid. Inside the case was a shiny silver french horn. 

“I do have a list of things to tell you as well.” Scott sat down on the bed next to the instrument smiling. “The director gave you some rotor oil, a polishing cloth, and a mouth piece brush. Said you’re to make sure to keep everything clean and oiled. Also said you can look online on how to care for it as well, but if you have any questions he said Dad should have his email.” 

Virgil had pulled the horn out of its case and was turning it over in his hand. “I can’t wait to start practicing!” 

“Don’t forget to thank Dad.” 

Virgil was still inspecting the instrument a smile on his face. “Yeah, of course!” He carefully laid the horn back down and then darted out of the room. He ran down the stairs and zoomed past his grandma who had come to scold whoever was running in the house. Virgil burst his way into his father’s office and tackled his father in a hug. 

“Ah, Stan, can I call you back?” His father had been standing, talking to someone over the open line. The bust nodded with a smile and then disappeared. “I take it Scott’s home.” 

“Thank you, Dad!” Virgil was still clinging to him, hugging him as tight as he could. 

He could feel his father chuckle and then his arms wrapped around him and squeezed. Virgil wasn’t ready to let go, and his father didn’t move to pull him away either, instead he just started to pet his hair. “You do know that no matter how hard I push you in your other subjects, I am still quite proud of your music.” 

“And if I do want to make it my career?” 

His father was quiet for a moment, but after a long exhale he finally pulled him away and looked down at him. “If that is what you choose, then I will try to be at every single performance you put on. However, before you make that decision, I want you to explore and try new things. Study hard in all of your subjects so that you’ll be able to do anything you want should music not pan out like you’d like. Always have a Plan B. Never forget that. Okay?” 

Virgil’s smile faded just a little, but he tried to look serious and nodded. 

“Okay, now a few rules.” 

“Rules?” 

“A horn is a little more disruptive than a piano.” his father sat down in his chair and leaned back. “If it’s nice out, I’d like you to take it outside to practice. You could probably get some good acoustics in the old barn. Your mother would always sing when she helped with the chores out there.” 

“And for bad weather?” 

“In your room, as long as Gordon is okay with it.” 

Virgil nodded serious in following his father’s rules.

“Alright, I’m sure you’re eager to get started. Go on.” He gave Virgil a slight shove toward the door. 

Virgil started for the door, but stopped turned and hugged his father once more before hurrying away. 

“Hey, forgot something.” Scott was standing in the hall, a silver item in his hand. “The last thing the director told me was to take this with you everywhere. Whenever you have a free hand and aren’t trying to talk you should be tooting on this to get used to it.” 

“Dad!” Virgil stuck his head back in with the mouthpiece in his hand. 

“He told me. Toot until someone complains then stop.” His dad was back on his call and just waved him away with a smile.

Virgil closed the door and put the mouth piece to his lips and blew. The air passed through the piece without any obstruction or noise. 

“I think you need to figure that out before you attach it to the rest of the instrument.” Scott laughed a little as he took it from his brother and looked through it with one eye closed. “There’s nothing to stop the air so I imagine there’s more to it than just blowing through it.” 

Virgil frowned a little as he took the mouth piece back and looked through it like Scott had. 

“The director said you’d need a lot of practice before being able to get a sound out of the horn so you better start practicing.” Scott chuckled much like their father as he ruffled Virgil’s hair and headed to the kitchen to help their grandmother. 

Virgil flipped the mouthpiece around in his hand. Both Scott and his father called it tooting. When he was at camp he didn’t get the chance to try playing any of the horns, but had stuck to the percussion equipment. He thought back to that camp though to see if he could remember anything that would help him. 

Virgil wandered into the living room where Gordon and Alan were playing with some blocks on the floor and flopped onto the couch. The only thing Virgil could think of was that some of the kids’ cheeks were really puffed out. Virgil took in a deep breath and blew through the mouth piece again, but still nothing. 

Well, anything he could remember from camp didn’t seem to help, so he thought back to when he had first learned he’d be playing the instrument. His dad had been right, he liked knowing how things worked and had wanted to see how the piano worked the first time he had sat down at one. So, the second his father approved of him taking band he had looked up how horns worked. 

It was simple really, the instrument’s only job was to resonate the vibrations of the air being forced through it. The keys lengthened or shortened the path the air took through the instrument causing the different notes.

It hit him, it was so easy. Vibrations. The horn didn’t make the air vibrate, the player did. He took another deep breath, put the mouth piece to his pinched lips and blew. His cheeks puffed out, his face turned red, and he tooted. 

Alan and Gordon, who had been making a ruckus in their own right, went silent at the noise. There was a pause where it seemed everyone had frozen—Virgil a little shocked that it had actually worked, and the two youngest at the strange, new noise. Then time started again and Alan and Gordon jumped from their spots on the floor and climbed onto Virgil trying to get his new toy from him. 

“I wanna make noise too!” Gordon was trying to stand on Virgil’s lap so he could reach up to where Virgil was holding the mouth piece.

“Me too!” Alan was standing next to him, pulling on his arm and trying to open up his hand. 

“Alright. Sit quietly and you can try it.” Virgil wasn’t annoyed, his brothers were just being curious and that wasn’t a bad thing. He would show them, and they would play with it for a bit before they got bored and went back to their blocks. 

Just as fast as they had bounced to life, they were both sitting quietly on the couch looking at the their older brother expectantly. 

Virgil slid off the couch and turned to face them. “Okay, first thing you need to be able to do is make a razz-berry.”

The two boys looked at each other and then back to their brother. “I don’t like raspberries.” 

“No, Gordon, not the fruit.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile at his brother. “Like this.” He put his lips together and blew. 

Alan laughed and bounced in his seat letting out his own wet razz-berry. 

“No tongue, Alan, just your lips.” 

“How do raspberries help you make a noise?” Gordon had his arms crossed staring his brother down. 

“Well then, you try it and see if you can make a sound.” Virgil handed the piece of metal over to Gordon. 

Gordon took it and looked at it for a moment before he put it to his lips and blew. Nothing but air came out.

“Let me try!” Alan reached over and snatched it from Gordon’s hands and put it to his mouth. The toot was small and quiet but it was there. Alan grinned from ear to ear and tried again. His cheeks were huge and his face as red as John’s hair, but the sound came out louder this time. 

“Let me try!” Gordon reached for the mouth piece crawling over the top of Alan as he held it away. 

“No, Imma gonna try again.” Alan wiggled out from under Gordon and turned his back to him. He put it to his lips again and blew. This was the loudest by far, even louder than Virgil’s attempt. 

“That was awesome, Alan! How did you do that?” Virgil was staring down at the youngest amazed at how quick he had figured it out. 

“Pinch your lips.” Alan pulled the corners of his mouth back and blew making a small but more controlled razz-berry. 

“That sounds like a fart!” Gordon laughed as he rolled over on top of Alan. 

Virgil took the mouthpiece back from Alan—barely keeping it from getting snatched again by Gordon, and tried for himself. The noise that came out was loud, but very much controlled—he even tried to adjust the air and was able to change the tone of the toot. It was still difficult—he couldn’t even imagine how hard it was going to be once he put the mouth piece on the horn—but at least he had figured out what he needed to practice.

“I want to try again! Alan got to toot it three times!” 

“Alright, sit up.” Virgil waited for Gordon to comply and then handed it over. 

It took Gordon more than just three times to make a sound and by that time a clear liquid had run out of the end of the mouthpiece and down his hand. 

“Eww! What is that?” Gordon tossed it back to Virgil and wiped his hand on his shorts. 

“Spit, I imagine.” Virgil used the end of his shirt to wipe it up a little. 

“That’s gross.” 

“What are you talking about? Just the other day you were trying to drool on Alan.” 

“My spit’s okay, other people’s is gross.” Gordon slid off the couch. “Come on Alan, we still gotta save the people from the mutant alien squid!” 

“We? You’re the squid!” 

“Yeah, so you better hurry or your fort is gonna fall!” 

Alan scrambled off the couch to join Gordon back on the floor while Virgil continued to practice. 

 

The rest of the summer passed with little incident. Virgil played during every minute he could trying to improve his ability. It was hard though, but he wasn’t about to give up. Like his father asked he played outside most of the time. During storms he tried playing in his room, but Gordon would usually complain about it so Virgil would willingly put it up and skip practicing for the day—Virgil couldn’t disagree, it was a loud and squawky instrument in his inexperienced hands. So, on those days he’d either play with his brothers or practice a little on the piano. 

He was able to meet up and hang out with his friends a couple of times,and each time he left them he would be down the next day. His brothers would make sure that mood didn’t stick for too long though. 

The new school year came around quickly and Virgil was both excited and a little scared. He was eager to join the band for the first time, but a little scared about having to go from class to class without knowing if he’d know anyone. He shared only one class with John—math— which he was grateful for.

The first day was hectic, and most of Virgil’s attention was focused on trying to find the classrooms he needed to go to. He did survive, though he wasn’t entirely sure how well he was going to like the new school. He didn’t know anyone in any of his classes—John of course the only exception. 

Band was awkward. Everyone else knew each other cause they had been in sixth grade band together. Virgil had discovered that John was supposed to have told him about it, but had forgot. He wasn’t mad at him though, he was still able to join so no harm was done, but still he felt like an outsider. 

It was the same in all his other classes too. Everyone seemed to already know someone, or they seemed to instantly find the one person in the class they could talk to and be friends with. Virgil just didn’t seem to ever that one person. 

Days, weeks, and even a couple months passed and nothing seemed to change. He was doing okay with his subjects and got along with his teachers. He was even improving on his french horn and learning a lot in his painting class, but he still had not made any friends. It was the first time he could ever remember not having friends around him and he did not like it at all. 

 

“Alright, can anyone finish the problem?”

Virgil could see the teacher turn to look at them, but he was concentrating on his paper and the problem the teacher had written on the board. 

“Yes, Angel?” 

“Forty-two.” 

“Afraid not. Let’s go through this together.” 

Virgil frowned. He had just finished the problem himself and had gotten the same answer. He glanced over next to him where John sat, but he was busy with a different problem and didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the lecture. 

Virgil rewrote the problem, but got the same answer as before so he compared it to the work the teacher was showing up on the board.

“Mrs. Thompson!” 

“Yes, Virgil? Do you know the answer?” 

“It’s Forty-two.” 

“I already said that was incorrect.” 

“But it’s not, ma’am. You forgot to round up in the second step.” Virgil watched as the teacher blinked at him, but turned and stepped back from the board to look at her own work. 

“Well, I sure did. Thank you Virgil for catching that.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but smile a little and glanced back at Angel, only to find her glaring at him. His smile froze and then crumbled. 

He couldn’t concentrate at all for the rest of the period. He could still feel her staring at him, and every time he glanced back he wished he could disappear. When the bell finally rang Virgil stuffed his notebook into his bag and didn’t even bother to zip it as he stood and pulled it onto one of his shoulders. 

She was there though, as if she had been waiting for him even before the bell had rang. 

“Ah, hi.” Virgil took a step back and glanced over at John who was taking his time in putting his things away. “I’m sorry, if I did something—” 

“Look. I knew I had the right answer. I didn’t need you speaking up for me, or trying to be some hot shot know-it-all. You got that?” 

“I’m sorry. I just—I was just trying—I didn’t mean—” Virgil couldn’t seem to get his thoughts in order, she was just staring at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he just apologized once more and then pushed himself past her and out of the room. 

The hall seemed even more crowded than usual as he pushed his way through toward his locker. He seemed to bump into everyone and it didn’t take long until his half open backpack spilled scattering his books. 

He dropped to his knees and began stuffing the books back into his bag, his breathing was ragged as he tried his best not to break out crying. 

“Virgil?” 

A hand was on Virgil’s and he realized it was shaking. He took in a deep breath and sniffed a little before looking up. 

“Virgil?” John was kneeling down in front of him, one of his notebooks in his hand. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Virgil wiped at his nose as he took the notebook and jammed it into his bag. 

“I may have my nose stuck in books most of the time, but even I can tell that’s a lie.” John took Virgil’s bag from him and helped him back on his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Mr. Morris has prep this period.” 

“Who?” 

“My programming teacher.” 

Virgil didn’t argue too much, and followed John down the hall into a classroom. 

“Mr. Morris?” John knocked on the door a little as they walked in. 

“John, aren’t you supposed to be in English?” 

“Could we hide in here for a bit. I need to talk to my brother.” 

Virgil was trying his best to hide behind John, and didn’t even look at the teacher. 

“I see. Where is your brother supposed to be? I’ll send a message to the teacher so he’s not counted absent.” 

“Ah, Science, I think. Virg?” 

“Yeah, Mr. Miller.” 

“Okay. Messages are sent, and I’ll just wander down to the teacher’s lounge for a snack.” 

“Thank you.” 

Virgil peaked out from behind John and watched the teacher as he nodded and made his way out of the room. 

“Sit. Talk. What’s wrong?” John sat down in a seat a few rows from the front. 

Virgil hung back near the door. “Nothing.” 

“Did what that girl say bother you?” 

“No.” Virgil knew his brother wasn’t going to believe him. Even he could hear the shake in his voice and the raspy inhale as he tried to keep the tears at bay. 

“Hey.” John was next to him again, and pulled his head to his chest. “It’s okay to cry, you know that.” 

“I just don’t understand.” He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. He wanted to hug his brother, to cling to him, but knew not to force it so he just wrapped his arms around his own torso. “Why does she hate me so much?” 

“She doesn’t hate you. Well, I don’t think she likes you much, but that’s not your problem. It’s hers.” 

“I-I’ve never had anyone look at me like that or talk to me like that. And it’s not just her. So many people ignore me or give me dirty looks. What did I do to them?” 

“You didn’t do anything.” 

“I had to have! Why else would they hate me!” 

“Nobody hat—”

“They do!” 

The classroom was silent except for Virgil’s sobs. After a moment John disappeared. Virgil looked up and watched as he walked to the front of the room and picked up the phone. He took John’s silence as confirmation. They did hate him, but for what he didn’t know. He leaned up against the wall and slid down it, burying his face in his knees. 

He honestly didn’t remember much of the rest of the afternoon. An adult came and helped John take him to the office where they tried to talk to him, but Virgil was tired of talking. They eventually gave up, and then his father was there. 

Virgil didn’t remember the trip home, walking up the stairs or even curling up in his bed. The only thing he could think of was wanting everything to just disappear. 

 

“Virg.” 

Virgil had fallen asleep at some point, though probably not for long—he wiped at his eyes a little and they were still wet with tears. 

“Virgil.” 

He blinked and looked up at the voice calling him. It was Scott, his brows drawn together so they were almost touching. 

“Scooter!” Virgil sprang from his nest and latched onto his brother, clung to him and cried once again. 

“Hey, hey. It’s alright.” Scott wrapped his arm just as tightly around Virgil and squeezed. “What’s going on? John says you freaked out at school today.” 

“Nobody likes me, Scooter.” 

“I doubt that’s true.” 

“It is. No one wants to talk to me, and that girl today—the way she looked at me. I was only trying to help!” 

He could feel Scott take in a deep breath and let it out over his head. “I can remember you in kindergarten. You were determined to say hi to everyone every day. You just had to be friends with every single person in that room, and you were. You were friends with them for six years—you’re still friends with them. Your not in elementary school anymore, Virgil. You can’t be friends with everyone.” 

“I don’t have to be friends, I just don’t want them to hate me.” The tears had slowed—Scott seemed to always have that power over him—but he hadn’t loosened his grip any. 

“No matter how hard you try, you can’t make everyone like you.” 

“Why not?” 

“There will always be someone out there that doesn’t like you and you may never understand why, but that doesn’t mean you’ve done anything to cause it.” Scott sighed again as he petted Virgil’s hair. “It may take time, but I bet you will make a lot of friends by the end of the year. ” 

 

It was the next morning, just after Scott’s talk with Virgil. Band had just dismissed and everyone was hurrying to put their instruments away and head off to their next class. Virgil was just taking his time, cleaning what he could, polishing it a little. He just didn’t want to go to second period. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil jumped a little and looked around. Everyone else had gone, he was the last left other than the director. “Ah, sorry, guess I spaced out.” He stashed his polishing cloth in the little cubby in his case and closed it, flipping the latches shut. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” Virgil didn’t seem to want to move. He needed to leave, needed to go off to his next class, but he just couldn’t move. 

The director watched him for a moment and then squeezed between the chairs and stands so that he could sit in the chair next to Virgil. “I’ve noticed that you don’t seem to talk to anyone else in the band. Any reason for that?” 

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t think they want to talk to me.” 

“I doubt that’s true.” 

“I’ve tried, but they just ignore me, or give me annoyed looks. I’m not sure I belong here.” 

“Are you enjoying it? The playing?” 

“Yes, absolutely!” Virgil finally looked up at the director. “I love being a part of something big like this. It’s so different than playing the piano alone. I just-I just wish I could be accepted as part of the band like everyone else.” 

“Do you have friends outside of this class?” 

Virgil looked back down at his case in his lap as he picked a little at the plastic handle. 

“You seem like a friendly kid. You aren’t trying to change who you are to get friends are you?” 

“No, I’ve done what I’ve always done in the past. I try to talk to people, but they don't like it when you interrupt them and their friends. I’ve tried to help others, but they think I’m trying to cheat and even the teachers have told me to keep to my own work.” 

“Have you had any opportunities to work in small groups in your other classes?”

“No, most of it is individual work.” 

“Alright. I’m going to email your teachers and tell them of the situation.” 

“No! Please, don’t do that! It’ll just make things worse!” Virgil had grasp the handle of his case hard, his knuckles turning white. “If they know I’ve complained—”

“Settle down. They won’t tell the students. It’ll be confidential information just for the teachers. I’ll recommend some small group work, it’ll give you a chance to get to know some of the other students, and the teachers may try to put you with others they think you’d get along with. But it would give you the opportunity to talk to them.” 

“Oh. What about here? We don’t do small groups.” 

“On the contrary, we can. I was thinking of doing it a bit later, but we can do it this week.” 

Virgil frowned as he looked up at the director, but he didn’t give him any more details and just squeezed his shoulder a little. 

“Let me get you a pass to your next class. You don’t want to miss anything important.” 

 

The next couple days didn’t improve at all. Scott constantly asked how he was doing, and Virgil told him he was okay, but didn’t think that Scott believed him. There really wasn’t anything Scott could do though, it wasn’t like he was at the same school. Even if he was, the last thing he wanted was his big brother trying to make people become friends with him. 

John had included Virgil in his own small group of friends. Of course Virgil already knew them, they were the same friends John had had in elementary school. It didn’t seem to help. They were nice to him and all, but they only saw them before and after school. The school day itself was still nothing but misery. 

By Thursday Virgil was starting to give up hope. If his band director had sent out an email, his other teachers hadn’t acknowledged it, that he could tell. Still he tried to smile and said hello to everyone he could. 

 

The band director clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Today we’re doing something different. We are going to split up into sections, and together I want you to work on your parts. I want everyone to try and give suggestions, and I will come around to each group throughout the period. Flutes to the cafeteria, clarinets and oboe to the small gym, saxophones to the courtyard, brass to the auditorium, and percussion of course stays here.Off you go!” 

Virgil frowned, this was what he had been talking about. He sighed and grabbed his music and stand in one hand while carrying his horn in the other. He waited and followed the clarinets out of his row and then broke off to the door connecting the room to the hall that led to the auditorium. 

He grabbed one of the chairs stacked off stage and made himself comfortable in the circle that had formed on the stage itself. Everyone was a little hesitant to take the lead, but finally one of the trumpet players counted off to get them going. 

They played through the piece twice, but both times Virgil could tell something was off. He didn’t know what the other parts were, so it was hard to tell what exactly it was. 

“I’m not sure we’re playing this right.” One of the trumpet players finally announced. “Tubas, play your part real quick.” 

The tuba players nodded and the two of them counted off together and started playing. They played halfway through before the same trumpet player stopped them. “Are we playing the melody together?” 

They both stood and walked to the middle of the circle to compare music. “Danny, this is no good. I can’t read yours and you can’t read mine.” 

“How are we supposed to help each other if we can’t even understand what we’re all supposed to be playing?” 

There was mutual grumbling from the other players, but Virgil was busy thinking. The trumpets tended play the higher parts, the tubas the lower, Virgil’s french horn, plus the trombones were somewhere in the middle. 

He looked around real quick and caught sight of what he was looking for just off the side of the stage. Standing, he squeezed out of the circle, ignoring the questions behind him and darted back into the band room. He had hoped the director hadn’t taken it with him and he was happy to see he hadn’t. He grabbed the binder that still sat on the director’s stand and took it back with him into the auditorium. 

The group he had left behind were openly talking to each other trying to figure out the music, but stopped cold when Virgil reappeared. “Where did you go?” 

“I needed the score.” 

“What for?” 

“So I could see all the parts.” Virgil could feel their eyes follow him as he made his way to the piano on the far side. He carefully sat the director’s score on the music rack and hiked up the bench a little before scanning it and carefully laying his hands on the keys. 

He wasn’t going to be able to play all of the notes but maybe enough to figure out just where they were making their mistakes. He played through the first half of the song a few times, each pass emphasizing a different instrument’s part. 

Finally after several minutes he turned around to face the others. “None of us are playing the melody at the same time. The trumpets start, and—” He turned to glance at the score again. “About two measures later the trombones and I pick it up. The tubas are echoing various parts but never the whole melody.” 

Everyone was just watching him silently. Virgil slumped a little, and turned around to grab the score to take it back, afraid he had once again made enemies instead of friends. 

“You can play the piano?” 

Virgil turned back around and Danny had stepped forward, blinking at him. “Um, yeah.” 

“And you can read both clefs?” 

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, but Danny waved the question away. 

“That is like really cool! And now you’re playing the french horn?” 

“How long have you played the piano?” Another voice popped up. 

“Since I was four.” 

“Have you played the french horn that long too?” And another.

“No, I just stared this summer.” 

“Why weren’t you in sixth grade band?” 

“I wasn’t in class the day they learned about it, and my brother forgot to tell me.” 

“Jeez, you would think you’d remember to tell your piano playing brother about band.” 

“He tends to have a one track mind about some things, I’m not mad at him or anything.” 

“Man I would be.” 

“Yeah, me too!” 

“Me three!” 

“You know you’re kinda cool. You should have spoken up earlier.” 

Virgil almost wanted to mention that he had tried, but decided not to, instead he just smiled. 

“Alright, let’s try this again and remember what Virgil said.” Danny had called the group back to order and Virgil quickly made his way back to his seat and his horn. 

They played through the piece again, Danny stopping a couple of times to correct some of the trumpets and even directly asked Virgil how he thought they were doing. By the time the director had showed up to check on them they had improved quite a bit in Virgil’s opinion and even the director praised their progress. 

Virgil didn’t miss his raised eyebrows thrown in his direction and Virgil nodded and smiled as Danny once again prompted for them to start again. 

 

Virgil’s _awesomeness_ traveled quickly through the band and soon almost everyone had started talking to him. He noticed that many of the band members were also in his other classes and he was welcomed into their circle of friends with eagerness. There were still people that thought he was stuck up, or a teacher’s pet—Angel continued to give him disgusted looks every time he answered one of the teacher’s questions—but he realized that it didn’t matter, just as Scott and John had said, if other’s didn’t like him, it was their problem and not his. All he could do was be himself. 


	7. Movement VII: Dissonanza

Band had just been the beginning. Now that the other band members were talking to him, in and out of class, others seemed to decide that maybe he wasn’t so hard to approach.

John, however, still hadn’t made any new friends during the semester, but it didn’t seem to bother him as it had Virgil. Still, Virgil felt bad for his brother and whenever possible tried to put in a good word. It didn’t help much, John was so single minded in his learning it was hard to get his attention sometimes. That and there had been an incident when a student had leaned down and gotten in his face to get his attention. That had sent John off and, well, they stopped trying after that.

It was nearing the end of the semester when Virgil decided that John needed help. His old friends were still around--they still hung out whenever possible--but none of them had the same classes as John. So he was always working alone.

John did noticed what Virgil was doing and told him not to worry. Things would worked out on their own and he didn’t mind. Still Virgil worried.

They were in math class, the teacher was absent and the sub had given them worksheets to work on. Virgil was part of a group that was trying to figure out some of the harder questions while John was off working alone.

“Virgil, did you ever figure out how to do this problem?”

Virgil looked over at where his classmate was pointing and shook his head. “Not yet. John was helping me last night, but we didn’t get that far.”

“Hm, it’s the only one I don’t quite understand.” The boy slumped down in his seat a little.

Virgil frowned, but then burst out in a smile. “Why don’t you ask him? He’d be more than happy to help.”

The boy looked behind him at John who was hunched over his own worksheet. “I don’t know.”

“Just go ask him.”

“You sure he won’t blow up at me?” The boy mulled over it for a minute.

“He’s very particular about his personal space is all. Stay a few steps back, call his name a few times and you’ll be fine.”

The boy nodded hesitantly but stood and walked over to where John sat. It took him a couple of tries to get John’s attention, but once he had it John listened intently to him. When he finished explaining his confusion John invited him to sit down so he could help him.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about John, Virgil could be fully nervous as the second semester of his middle school career started. He was excited about all of his classes but one. It was time for that engineering class Scott had talked him into taking. He had no idea if he was going to like it or not, and if he didn’t it was going to make for a long semester.

The class was the last one of the day for him. All they did, though, was go over the rules and regulations that his other classes had done at the beginning of the year. That was it, and Virgil walked away from that first day just as unsure as he was before the class.

However, that would not last.

 

Virgil was eager to get home after the second week of school. They had started to get into what exactly engineering was and what engineers did. Virgil had been able to offer guesses based on what Scott had told him the previous year, and was excited to find that they were correct—which wasn’t really a surprise cause Scott knew about everything. However he wanted to go home and talk to his dad about it. He had questions and he couldn’t wait to find the answers.

The bus seemed to be going as slow as it could, and when they hit a train sitting at a railroad crossing Virgil couldn’t help but let out a small moan.

“What’s with you? You’ve been bouncing ever since we got on the bus.” John raised up one of his eyebrows as he glanced from the book he was reading.

“I just wanna get home.”

“Why the rush? Just take out one of your books and read a bit.”

“I don’t think I could concentrate on that right now.” Virgil leaned his elbow on the edge of the window.

“Is everything okay?” John slowly closed his book and turned so he was facing his brother a little more.

“Hm? Oh, sure! Couldn’t be better! I just wanna ask Dad some stuff. About engineering.”

“Engineering? Oh, that’s right, you’re taking a class. How is it so far?”

“It’s interesting, but honestly I don’t know if i like it yet or not. One reason I wanna ask Dad about a few things.”

“What are you wanting to ask?”

“Just stuff.”

Virgil could feel John watching him and even saw the small smile on his lips. “You’ve got an idea in your head.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’ve got some kind of idea in your head. If Dad confirms it you’ll start saying you like engineering, if he can’t then you probably won’t.”

“That’s not necessarily true.” Virgil frowned a little but continued to stare at the train, wishing it would just start moving again.

“What are your questions?”

“Huh?” Virgil finally turned toward his brother.

“What are your questions? Maybe I know the answers.”

“Why would you know about engineering?”

“Because they need engineers in space. I’ve been looking at all sorts of careers that would take me to space. Engineering is one of them.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you take this class then?”

“I decided it’s not what I wanted to do. I’m thinking more along the lines of programming, communications, or physics. Though that may change.”

“Wait.” Virgil turned fully towards his brother, his mouth hanging open a little in shock. “You mean to say you don’t know what you’re going to do?”

“No, not yet. I’m looking into stuff though and I’m planning as though I’m going to study everything so I’m ready for when I finally decide.”

“Well, that makes me feel a little better.” Virgil slouched down in the seat, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Dad’s been on me about deciding what I want to do, and I just don’t know. Scott doesn’t even know what he wants to study in collage either. It’s good to know I’ve been stressing over nothing.”

“You need to have a direction.” John’s smile disappeared as he looked down at Virgil. “Scott has that with the Air Force Academy. Same with me and MIT. We know what road we’re going down, and by the time we get to the fork where we have to make the decision on what we’ll study, we’ll know which way to go. You’re still standing at the crossroads, Virg. You don’t know if you’re going to go into the arts, music, math, or science. That’s what Dad wants you to decide on.”

“But I don’t know.”

“You need to start looking into it. You’ll need to pick out a collage soon so you can make sure you take what you need to get into it.”

Virgil slumped down father into the seat, his energy now gone.

“Hey, cheer up.” John reached over and ruffled his hair a little. “Maybe after you ask Dad your questions it’ll shed some light on your decision.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Virgil glanced up at the window and noticed that they were once again moving.

 

It took them another fifteen minutes before they finally reached home. Virgil took off at a fast walk up the lane and into the house. He didn't even stop to put his bag up, but went straight to his father’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Virgil slid through the doorway and made his way over to the chair that sat in front of the desk, sitting down and waiting for his father to acknowledge him.

His father was looking down at a tablet on his desk reading something, and seemed to have forgotten about him before he finally looked up. “Ah, Virgil. What can I do for you?”

“I have some questions.”

“Ask away.”

“Scott said that you hired some engineers.”

“I have. I’m up to a dozen at the moment, and I’m working on possibly getting another as we speak.”

“What kind of engineers are they?”

“They’re mechanical engineers. Though this new one is more of a jack of all trades.”

“What kind of things do they do for you?”

“Whatever I ask them to.”

“But like what?”

“Well, working on improving safety measures in private planes. As well as improving thrust and increasing speed in aircraft. Those are just a couple of the many projects we’re working on right now, mostly in the areas of aeronautics and aerospace. Though we did work on some improvements to construction equipment a year or so ago.”

“Why those things?”

“I think that’s a bit obvious, don’t you?” His father smiled at him, but didn’t explain further on it. “In general we’re just looking to improve flight and safety.” 

“Oh, right.” Virgil looked down at his hands almost afraid to ask the next question, but it was this question that he really wanted to ask. “Is—is there any engineering jobs that have to do with music?”

His father blinked a few times before his smile returned to his face. “I believe there is.” He picked up his tablet and flicked through a few things before pushing it across the desk for Virgil to look at. “Acoustical Engineering. It’s more general sound, so it would be creating and improving speakers, microphones, and those big computers they use to mix music on. You could work with bands, or maybe even movies or video games. Engineering is a very broad category. I’m not sure there’s a field out there that doesn’t use an engineer in some manner or another.”

Virgil had picked up the tablet and quickly read through the article his father had brought up, his smile becoming wider as he did.

“Does this mean you may have an idea of where you want to go?”

“I don’t know about schools yet, but engineering does kind of sound like fun. If I can do something music related that’s even better!”

“I’m glad to hear it. I take it you’re enjoying your class then?”

“Yeah, it’s been really interesting.”

“Good. Be sure to tell me some of the stuff you do, I’m quite curious as to what projects your teacher has for you.”

“Sure.” Virgil handed back the tablet. “I’m gonna go and help Scott with dinner. Thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime.”

 

* * *

 

Spring was in full bloom as Virgil jumped off the bus once again eager to talk to his father. It was a year later, though, and Virgil was nearing the end of his middle school career. He had finished his Intro to Engineering class with an A and an even greater interest in the subject. For eighth grade he was able to take the next engineering class, and even choose it over the art classes.

This engineering class was much more hands on than the last one had been. Virgil was carrying one of his projects to show his father what he had done at school. It was somewhat fragile, yet had been the strongest in the class and had survived being broken.

Virgil jumped up the three steps onto the porch and made his way into the house, dumping his bag next to the stairs to take up to his room later. He knocked on his father’s office door and waited to be acknowledged, but there was no response.

There were no sounds coming from inside the office that he could hear. He was about to knock again when his grandmother appeared out of the kitchen and put an arm around his shoulder.

“Sorry, Virgil, your father’s on an important call at the moment. Can’t be disturbed.”

“He’s been really busy lately, hasn’t he?”

“His company is taking off. He’s going to be gone next week on a business trip as it is.”

“But next week is Scott’s birthday!”

“Yes, and he’s already talked to Scott about it. We’ll celebrate the week after.”

“But he’s never missed a birthday, not since—not since Mom died.”

“Trust me, he knows. He doesn’t like it either, but things are changing for the better. It may take awhile for us to find our new normal, but we will. There will be a point where he can take any day off he wants, and I’m sure he’ll take each of your birthdays and more to make up for the ones he’ll miss.” She squeezed him in the half hug she had him in and turned him toward the kitchen. “Now what is this thing you have here. Did you bring home spaghetti for me to use?”

Virgil wanted to laugh but only a small smile escaped as he allowed his grandmother to lead him away from his father’s office.

 

Virgil tried to show his father his project, but each time he went to knock on his door he was in a meeting or on an important call and couldn’t be bothered. In fact it was two weeks later before he got the opportunity to speak to his father. Unfortunately the small bridge he had built had been broken by Gordon who blamed it on Alan. He had said they could play with it, and it was only built out of a couple of pieces of scrap wood and spaghetti, so he wasn’t horribly mad at them. He was more annoyed at their father. 

“Yes, Dad?” Virgil had been summoned by his father, and was no longer eager to talk to him about anything after how he had been ignoring himself and his brothers.

“Ah, Virgil. You’re grandmother said you had something to show me.”

“Not anymore, it broke so I threw it away.”

“What was it?”

“A bridge made from wood and spaghetti.”

“I see, had to try and make the strongest one I take it?”

“Yeah. Though the spaghetti was more for looks, the wood was used for supports.”

“Sounds reasonable. So I take it you are still interested in pursuing engineering as a career?”

“Yeah, possibly.”

“Then sit, we should go over your plans for high school.” His father waved to the seat that sat in front of the desk. “Unless you were having Scott help you again.”

“I thought about it, but he’s been kinda busy.”

“So I’ve heard. Track is taking up quite a bit of his time. Though it does look like he might have a shot at going to state so he’s got to work hard to get there.”

Virgil nodded, but didn’t move to sit in the chair.

“Come along. I don’t have a lot of time to spare.”

Virgil sighed as he made his way over and sat down but didn’t look up at his father.

His father brought up a small holographic image of the scheduling sheet—the high schools schedules all being online. “Alright. I’m assuming you’re going to continue with band?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Still playing the french horn?”

“For concert band, yeah.”

His father looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “There’s more than one band?”

“It’s the same class, but different for each season. Fall is marching, winter is Pep, and spring is concert.”

“But you’ll only play the french horn for concert? What about the other two?”

“Not sure, but a horn or some sort. Probably either trumpet, mellophone, or tuba. May even end up in percussion. Whatever is needed.”

“I see, well, that will take up some space on your schedule, but there is still plenty of room. You’ll need to be sure to take all the academic classes you can in order to graduate early.”

“To graduate early?” Virgil blinked. “I’m not sure I—”

“Of course. Scott took two summer classes last summer and will take two more this summer, plus all the AP courses. That’s nothing though compared to what John wants to do.” His father laughed a little. “He’s doing Russian as an independent class online as well as Japanese. Then two summer classes next year with plans on doing one summer class the year after in addition to an internship. And that’s on top of all his other classes.”

“If anyone could do that, John can.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile a little at his brother’s enthusiasm for school. “But I just don’t think—”

“Now with band, you’ll have to take the two summer classes each year, PE’s always good to take in the summer and then you might have to double up on your math or science, but I think it’s still doable. Now, have you looked at collages yet?”

“No, no I haven’t, but I—”

“I figured, you really need to be more on top of that. I have looked into a few schools for you and have a couple for you to look at. Johns Hopkins University and Georgia Tech both have strong music and engineering programs and they both have strong master programs as well. I assume once you get your bachelors you’ll go straight into the masters program of course.”

“Dad, I’m not even sure—”

“You know it’s a good thing I’m looking out for you, but I’m not always going to be able to do that.”

“I’m not asking you too.” Virgil had crossed his arms and slumped down in his seat a little, doubtful his father had even heard him.

Virgil sat in the chair only half listening to his father, nodding and answering any questions he was asked as his father planned out his entire high school career—and his life.

He wasn’t sure how long he was in his father’s office, but it felt like forever. When his father finally dismissed him Virgil grabbed his sketchpad from his backpack and then made his way out the back door, ignoring his grandmother’s comments about it being almost time for dinner.

 

He walked far out into the fields to one of his favorite spots. It wasn’t even theirs anymore, his father had sold the land earlier that year, though the new owner hadn’t done anything with it yet.

He sat with the intent to draw, hoping it would take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to want to come out. He felt like he was drawing stick figures, so he put the sketchbook away and leaned back on his hands looking up at the sky.

The sky slowly turned from a light blue to a darker hue and then began to mix with some yellows and oranges and an occasional a pink or purple shadow that would appear on a lazy cloud. His stomach rumbled a bit, but Virgil wasn’t ready to go back to the house just yet.

He reached up and wiped away the few tears that had fallen. He wanted his father to be proud of him, but at the same time he felt as if he had very little control over his life. His father had finally accepted that music would always be part of his life, but Virgil still felt as if his father was still struggling to accept that himself.

Not only that, it felt to Virgil that his father was trying to make him choose, music, or science. Why couldn’t he do both? But then, Virgil wasn’t even sure he wanted to to follow music into his career. He loved it yes, but to have to do it everyday for the rest of his life, he wasn’t sure about. Maybe he’d want to do something else, he just wasn’t sure and his father wanted them to make his decision now. Virgil just didn’t know what to do. 

He knew his father meant well, he knew he loved them all and would do anything for them. However, he was strong minded and didn’t like it when he didn’t get his way. It didn’t help that Virgil had never been good dealing with their father. He loved him, and that would never change, but when it came to doing what he wanted to do it was his father that always made the final decision regardless to how Virgil felt about it. He was just no good at standing up to him.

During his little meeting with his father, something had broke. He had decided to give up, stop trying and just do what his father wanted him to do. If that meant graduating early and going to collage at sixteen, then he would. If he was suddenly on the track to becoming an acoustical engineer then he would be one. His life was planned now, there was no looking back.

“Virg?”

Virgil jumped at his name and quickly reached up to wipe away the remaining tears as he turned to look at Gordon who was standing just a few feet away frowning down at him. “What do you want?” Virgil turned back around and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Grandma sent me, you missed dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” He was, and his stomach made sure that Gordon knew he was lying.

There was the rustle of grass as Gordon sat down next to him. “I saw your schedule when I took Dad his dinner. You’re gonna be almost as busy as John.”

Virgil just grunted as he reached down and pulled a blade of grass from the ground next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, tell that to someone who might believe you. Which is no one by the way.” Gordon bent over and looked up at Virgil a smile on his face. The smile disappeared quickly though. “What’s wrong with your schedule? I saw band and art on it.”

“Yeah, he said he’d let me take them.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I already said it.”

“And I still don’t believe you.” Gordon leaned back on his own hands and looked up at the darkening sky above them. “You’re no good when it comes to Dad. You always give in.”

“Because I want him to be proud of me. Like he is with Scott and John.”

“You want to be perfect like them?” Gordon let out an airy razz-berry in disapproval. “Why would you want to do that for?”

“It’s always Scott this and John that. He seems to rarely approve of anything we do. Like, he says he’s proud of my music, but I just don’t quite believe him. I know he would rather me do something in the sciences.”

“So you’re pretending to like engineering to make him happy?”

“No, I do like it. I just—”

“Ah, I think I get it now.” Gordon crossed his legs and leaned forward again. “This has to do with you skipping grades doesn’t it.”

“No, I’m fine with that. I’ve gotten over it.”

“Maybe, but the effects of it are still around. Dad has you graduating after eleventh grade right? You’d only be sixteen then. A freshman in collage at sixteen. I don’t know about you, but that’s awfully young—heck you wouldn’t even be driving when you move into the dorms. Plus you’d be leaving your friends behind a year early, _again_.”

“Look, Gordon, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, or whatever it is your doing, but I’ll be fine. I just need some time to get used to the idea.”

“Listen, I may be just a year younger than you—”

“You’re two years younger.”

“Not till August. Anyways, I can tell you that it really doesn’t matter what you do, Dad will be proud of you.”

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, trust me on this.” Gordon scooted himself around so he as facing Virgil. “Did you see my schedule for this summer?”

“Yeah, just swimming like usual.” Virgil shrugged as he pulled another piece of grass up and started pulling it apart.

“Not like usual. I’ll be spending the entire summer at the University of Kansas, at a swimming camp.”

“You’re going away? Does Alan know?”

“Not yet, but I’ve still got a couple of months. That’s not the point, though, the point is Dad didn’t want me to go. But I put my foot down.” Gordon slapped his fist into his hand. “He wanted me to stay local, take the usual lessons and do some science stuff. He had this two week nerd camp about biology picked out and I refused.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not what I want to do. Sure, maybe later I’ll go to collage and study oceanography or marine biology or something, but right now I want to concentrate on my swimming.”

“Swimming isn’t going to get you very far.” Virgil had scrunched his brows together and looked down at his little brother.

“You’re not getting it. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to the Olympics. This is just the first step. Only the best of the best get into this swim camp and I got a spot! I’m going there to prove that I have what it takes to get to the biggest event in the world. Dad doesn’t see the point of it. Doesn’t think it’s worth wasting my time swimming when I could be studying. I put my foot down and told him that I was going even if I had to walk there.”

“But Gordo, if—”

“When.”

“If. You do make it to the Olympics then what?”

“I’ll go back. As many times as necessary to prove my point and to break the medal record as well.”

“What if you don’t have what it takes?”

“There is still a career in swimming. And if for some reason I don’t keep swimming, then I’ll go to school for something. You know there isn’t a rule that says you have to go to collage right out of high school. Plenty of people don’t find out what they want to do until later in life.”

“And he agreed to this?”

“Well, remember when I ran away?”

“How could I forget? We were so worried about you!” Virgils’ frown deepened as he turned his full attention to Gordon. “Grandma was beside herself, and John said that Allie did nothing but cry while we were out looking for you.”

Gordon finally looked a little abashed at that. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset everyone. But I was trying to make a point.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to go to this camp, that I wanted to try to make it to the Olympics. Dad just waved it aside, saying it was just a dream, wouldn’t even listen to me. So I left. Figured it’d take me a while to walk there so I just started walking.”

“And what were you going to do about shelter? Food? What if you were hit by a car, or kidnapped!”

“Whoa, settle down. I’m fine. Sheesh, you’re as bad as Dad.”

That made Virgil shut his mouth.

“The point is—which you seem to keep missing—is that you need to stand up to Dad. Tell him that you are going to go to school all four years and that you’re going to choose your classes and your collage and whatever else you want.”

“How’d you know he was choosing my collage?”

“Just a guess.”

“I don’t know. I mean he does know what he’s doing.”

“Do you want to go to collage when you’re sixteen while your friends are enjoying their senior year and going to prom and homecoming and all that?”

“No.”

“It’s your life, not his! Trust me, as long as you’re successful and happy, he’ll be proud.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I ever wrong?” Gordon jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle as he took Gordon’s hand and stood himself. He followed Gordon back toward the house half listening to Gordon’s grand plans of making it to the Olympics.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk to his father, after all he could still remember the last time he had kept his thoughts to himself and how that had ended up.

 

“Virgil, you missed dinner.” His father was still in his office, head down busy with something on his desk.

“I know.”

“Where were you?”

“Out. Thinking.”

“Your grandmother was worried.”

“I apologized.”

“Good, is there something else you need?”

Virgil swallowed to wet down his suddenly dry throat. “We need to talk.”

That seemed to get his father’s attention. He laid down the stylus he was using and looked up at Virgil an eyebrow raised much like Scott’s did when his curiosity was piqued. “Go ahead.”

“My schedule. I don’t like how you did it. I want to re-do it.”

“I see. How would you like to structure your classes? More independent classes? More summer classes?”

Virgil shook his head. “I’ll take gym during the summer, but that’s it.”

“Then how do you expect to get all your classes in by the end of the eleventh grade?”

“I don’t. I want to stay in high school all four years, Dad. I don’t want to graduate early.”

“I think you just need to think on this a bit more—”

“I have been thinking.” Virgil sighed and then took in a deep breath steeling himself. “I don’t want to go to collage at sixteen. If I stay through my senior year. I’ll still be going into collage early since I skipped fourth grade. I really want to be able to spend some time with my friends. I want to go to prom and homecoming and all of that.”

“Scott’s still planning on going to all of that.”

“I’m not Scott, and I’m not John.” Virgil felt the words start to burst from his lips and decided for once, not to hold back. “I wish you would stop expecting all of us to do the exact same thing. You want to plan out our whole lives, year by year, day by day, but don’t even consider how we feel. You’re doing what you think is best, but did you ever consider that what you think isn’t what we want?

“Not only that, but you’re so controlling of our lives, expect us to drop everything on a whim to do what you want to do, but when we need to talk to you—when we need your help you’re too busy. You missed Scott’s birthday! You promised after Mom died that you wouldn’t miss any of our birthdays. Alan was crying the other day cause you were to busy to talk to him. And Gordon just told me that he ran away cause you wouldn’t let him go to a camp. All because it didn’t fit into your plans.

“I like engineering and I like music, but I may not even do either of those when I finally get to collage. I. Don’t. Know. And no matter how many times to tell me to think about it, it doesn’t help. I just don’t know. Right now I just want to enjoy school, enjoy band and being with my friends. I don’t want to have to spend every second of my day studying. Can you please just let me—let us live our lives like we want to?”

“Are you finished?” His father had leaned back in his chair and watched him.

Virgil took a moment to think, but pinched his lips and nodded, straightening his shoulders as he did.

“First off, what is said between myself and your brothers is private and none of your business. Second, If you feel so strongly about your future, fine. Make out your own schedule. Plan out your own future, just don’t expect my help.”

“Dad, I don’t want you to ignore me. I just want you to stop assuming you know what I want or what I need.”

“I just want what’s best for you, for all of you. I’ve sacrificed a lot so that you can have your piano lessons, Gordon can swim, John can go to space camp, and Scott can fly. I’m sorry if I’m not the perfect father you expect, but I am who I am.” 

“And I am who I am as well. I love music, and I like engineering, and I love my family—I love you. But I don’t know what I want to do yet. I just want to enjoy my life for a moment and when the time comes to go to collage I’ll still get into a good one and by then I’ll have figured something out.”

It was silent for a long moment before his father sighed. “You’re set on this aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“How about a compromise then?”

“No. No more compromises. My schedule the way I want it. I will stay all four years, walk with my class, get an honors diploma, and graduate with as close to a 4.0 as I can.” Virgil was watching his father, his hands in fists.

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.” His father brought up the hologram of his schedule and started to rearrange things.

“Really?”

“I expect excellent grades, no slacking off just because you’re not going to graduate early. You are going to take extra classes to prepare for the SATs and ACTs as well.”

“Yeah, of course.” Virgil shook his head a little surprised. He thought he’d be running out of the office crying after an earful from his father.

“Something else on your mind?”

“No, I just—I didn’t think you would reconsider.”

“I’m not happy, you can be sure, but I am glad you finally stood up for yourself. That was something you needed to do a while ago.”

“What?”

“You’ve always done what I’ve told you to do. Never questioning it. You need to think for yourself, make your own decisions. I’m proud of you for coming to me and speaking your mind.”

Virgil allowed a small smile to creep onto his lips, but it disappeared as his father glanced over at him again.

“This schedule is not challenging you enough. But, I suppose there is still hope that you’ll get into a good school.” He turned to look at Virgil, his eyes like needles boring into him. “If you do not get into a school I approve of, you are on your own. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” Virgil squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’ll send you a copy to make sure this is what you want. Make sure you get your answer to me promptly.”

“Yes, sir.” With everything said Virgil turned and left his father’s office.

Turned out that his father wouldn’t be as proud of him for doing what he wanted, but it was too late to turn back now. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it later.

 

* * *

Virgil was standing on the forty-five yard line of their high school football field. There were two other mellophone players on either side of him, their horns held parallel to their bodies, their mouthpieces level with their noses. Farther down to his left were twenty trumpet players standing in the same way. To his right down the line were thirty saxophones, their mouthpieces almost touching their noses. The flutes and clarinets were lined up in a curve in front of them, while the percussion was in an arc behind them. The guard was scattered among the band members, their flags to their sides.

It was dark out, the sun had set an hour ago, but the field had been lit up with the bright halogen lights surrounding it. It didn’t help the chill in the air and a few of the band members shivered as a cool breeze blew across the field.

“Alright, one more time!” The director was standing at the top of the bleachers, a megaphone in his hand. “Brass, remember start low and crescendo but make sure not to over do it, we need to be able to hear the woodwinds, this is their moment in the show, don’t take it from them!” He gave a signal to someone and another student climbed a small set of stairs to a platform on the fifty yard line just in front of the percussion that was off on the sidelines and raised their arms.

The band members stiffened and brought their instruments to their lips, waiting for the signal. The drum major gave three beats, the band took a collective breath and started to play. The arcs swept across the field, while the brass line faded through the percussion—the bass drum line passing through the mellophones, deafening even Virgil’s own horn from his hearing.

They played and moved for a whole thirty-five seconds before a foghorn blared and they came to a stop where they stood, their stances back to attention.

“Right there! Saxophones, double check your coordinates! You look too close to the clarinets. Flutes, keep your instruments level, I know it’s late, but you need to keep them up! Alright, back it up and do it one last time and then you can all go home.”

There was a scramble as everyone shuffled back thirty seconds prior to the spots they had started at. Virgil looked down at his feet, making sure he was right on the line and then held his horn up in front of his face to wait for the cue.

Once again the drum major lifted their arms and started the band off again. They played for a full minute this time before the fog horn sounded again. They stopped in their tracks, back at attention. 

“Good! Remember, practice during class in the morning on the practice field, sectional practice during study hall and then you are to report to the band room no later than five o’clock to prepare for the football game tomorrow night. You are dismissed!”

There was a mutual sigh from the band as they all relaxed. A few members let their arms hang along their sides, the percussionists unhooked their drums and laid them on the field—relieving their shoulders and backs of the extra weight for a moment before their hike back to the school.

Virgil had lowered his own horn and was chatting with one of his upperclassmen when he noticed three figures sitting off on the side of the bleachers. He excused himself and jogged over to them, leaning on the fence that separated the bleachers from the field. “You guys haven’t been waiting long have you?”

“Not too long.” Scott stood up and stretched, still wearing his running pants from his own practice session for cross country. “Though you are getting out a bit late. He’s working you hard, isn’t he?”

“Well, District contest is this weekend. We do good there and we go on to Regional the weekend after and then State.” Virgil was smiling, he loved being a part of the band and seeing how all the different members worked together to create the show.

“What did he mean by sectionals during study hall?”

“We practice with our sections, for me it’ll be the brass.”

“What about studying?”

“We don’t use the entire time, just half. So I can still get my homework done.” Virgil waved him off. “Hey, Gords, you look a little chilled.”

“You would be too if you were sitting on a cold bench all wet.” Gordon grumbled as he pulled his wool coat tighter around him.

“I told you to stay in the car.” John sighed as he closed the book he was reading and tucked it into his bag. “We better get going.”

“Yeah, we are getting close to curfew.” Scott nodded.

“Right, just let me put my horn up and I’ll meet you at the car.” Virgil took off to the nearest gate and ran up to the school and the band room where his things were. He packed up his horn and put it in its cubby hole, and grabbed his jacket and backpack as he left. Others were still making their way up the hill and into the dark school as he waved good-bye and made his way to the small SUV their father had gotten Scott for his sixteenth birthday.

His brothers were already inside, the engine running and the heat on full. Virgil pulled himself into the back seat next to Gordon and complained about the wet towel that was wadded up between them.

They made it home just as the clock was chiming ten, curfew. Their father was standing on the front porch, his arms crossed, waiting on them. “Cutting it a little close today, aren’t we?” 

“Sorry, Virgil’s practice ran over a little.” Scott was smiling as they made their way into the house. “We had to sit and wait almost a half-hour before the director let them go.”

“Did you now.” Their father was frowning, the smiles on his brothers faces did not seem to spread to his. “Your grandmother has some snacks for you in the kitchen. Make sure you eat something and then head off to bed.”

“Yes, sir.” The quartet chorused as they dropped their things by the door and kicked off their shoes.

“Virgil, once you grab something, come see me in my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Virgil frowned.

“Oh, Virgil’s in trouble!” Gordon cooed as he dodged Virgil’s lame attempt to hit him and darted into the kitchen.

Virgil grabbed an apple and a sandwich, gulping them down—he hadn’t had a chance to grab dinner and was starving. As he ate, though, he wondered what it was his father needed to see him about. Ever since that last spring, Virgil hadn’t talked to his father much. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes or hear how he was ruining his life by not doing what his father felt was right for him.

He finished his sandwich, licking the excess ketchup from his fingers. No use procrastinating any more so he knocked on his father’s door, peeking into the room.

“Sit.” His father waved a hand to the chair in front of him.

Virgil sat and looked up at his father. “Is something wrong?”

“I talked to some of your teachers today. They said you were doing a fine job.”

“I am trying.” Virgil straightened up. That was what this was about, they had gotten their midterm reports the week before.

“So they say. However, you have one A, three A-’s, and two B+’s. Care to explain.”

“I mistook some dates in my art history course or that would have been an A as well.”

“I don’t care about art history. You are getting B+’s in Geometry and English. Two classes you need to be doing well in. Plus your homeroom teacher tells me that you only spend half of your study hall in her class and then you go off to the band room for the other half?”

“Yes, we have sectional practice. I have to go.”

“Seems to be an awful lot of practicing just for a music show.”

“Just—it’s not just a music show, Dad. We’re talking about coordinating one-hundred and twenty-three people. Each person has to memorize their music, memorize were they are going, and be able to get there in a certain number of steps at a certain speed while playing the aforementioned memorized music making sure not to trip, stumble, fall, or bump into anyone. We have eight minutes—eight minutes—to show the judges just what we are capable of. There are no time outs, no breaks. We have to make sure we know what were are doing because we only have eight minutes to prove how good we are. There is no room for mistakes.”

Virgil couldn’t help but get riled up. His father wasn’t the only one that didn’t seem to understand—much of the school looked at the band like they were nothing but jesters in the court of football.

“So let me get this straight. You practice for to five hours every night, I assume during class as well so that’s another hour every day. And then you spend half of your study hall practicing which is another half hour. So you spend six and a half hours every day, five days a week. We’re looking at thirty-two and a half hours practicing a week, just for an eight minute show?” His father didn’t seem at all moved by his speech and still sat leaning on his desk, his hands clasped together in front of him. “While I do admire the dedication, I feel it is mis-spent. It would serve you better to spend some of that time studying and improving your grades. You promised that you would’t get lax on your grades if I agreed to let you stay for all four years.”

“I’m doing the best I can, but I will not cut my practices. We have a good show this year and are hoping to make it past District.” Virgil took in a deep breath and tried his best not to roll his eyes. “Look, Dad, we have maybe three more weeks and that assuming we make it all the way to State. After that I will have more time to study and will bring up my grades in time for finals. Surely having a B+ for a few weeks isn’t going to ruin my future.”

“Watch your tone with me, son.” His father straightened up and looked down his nose at him.

“Sorry, sir.” Virgil gave his father a bit of an annoyed look.

“Now, I’m sure you know but Scott has cross country regionals next weekend and I want the whole family there to cheer him on. He’s slotted to go to State again and I want him to know he has our support.”

“Yes, sir.” Virgil slumped in the chair a little. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go or that he wasn’t super proud of his brother, he just wished his father showed at least a little interest in the band and what they were accomplishing.

“Now up to bed with you. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. We all have to head to Wichita after you lot get out of school.”

Virgil was half out of the chair and froze. “What for?”

“The grand opening of my first office building. I told you about it a month ago.”

“And I’m sure I mentioned that I can’t do anything on Friday nights during football season. I have to go to the games, we perform during half-time.”

“As if anyone watches you.” His father chuckled a little. “You are coming with us. No excuses. Missing one game isn’t going to kill you or your little show. Not like you’re being judged is it?”

“No, sir.” Virgil straightened up and clenched his jaw. “But we will be back Friday night, right?

“We’ll see. Not sure how long it’s going to last.”

“I have to be back Friday night. We have a contest Saturday.”

“I said, we’ll see. You’re dismissed.”

Virgil kept in a grumble as he left the office knowing it would only cause more trouble.

 

Virgil was sitting on the floor of the band room—the chairs having been stacked in the back of the room so that the custodian could sweep before the game that evening. He was the only one there at he moment as most of the band members had decided to either go home or go out to eat before they had to be back again for the game.

“Virgil?” John was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. “We’re waiting on you in the car.”

“I’m not going.” Virgil was polishing his horn and turned it over to get at the other side.

“Dad said we all had to go.”

“I have a game.”

“It’s not like you’re playing.”

“I am playing.” Virgil lifted his horn but didn’t look up.

“I mean in the game. You’re just the halftime show.”

“Doesn’t make it any less important.”

“Virgil, I know you and Dad don’t really agree on this stuff, but this is his big night. He’s been working hard the past eight years, ever since Mom died. He deserves our support.”

“And I am proud of him.” Virgil finally looked up and met John’s gaze. “But I know how he works. He said we were only going for the night. However there were hotel reservations on the tablet on his desk.”

“So? The party probably won’t be over till late. None of us are going to want to fly home.”

“John, I have a competition tomorrow. We’re supposed to be here at seven in the morning for practice then leave at ten, two and a half hours to get to Selina and we are scheduled to perform at two.” Virgil laid his horn off to the side and stood, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. “Dad knows about it. He’s trying to keep me from going.”

“Why would he do that?” John's eyebrows finally scrunched together, looking a little confused.

“Because even though he said he supports my music and art he still wishes I’d go into the sciences. He’s also probably still upset with me about not wanting to graduate early, and he’s not real happy with my grades either.”

“You don’t seriously believe that.”

“Ever since I showed the slightest bit of interest in engineering he goes crazy making sure I know all about it. If I’m excited about something to do with music, he could care less.”

John sighed a little and shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know? You barely have your nose out of a book long enough to know what you’re eating.

John just smiled and shook his head. “I can do more than one thing at a time, Virgil. I pay attention to what’s going on. Dad is always listening to you when you practice. You may not believe me, but he does enjoy it.”

“Then why is he always giving me a hard time about it?”

“He’s just trying to get you to work hard. He wants you to succeed.”

“Then why is he all about everyone going to see Scott as his regional race, but couldn’t care less about my own district competition tomorrow?”

“That’s just because it’s Scott. It doesn’t matter what Scott does, it’s important.” John pushed himself off the doorframe and pulled a book from his jacket pocket. “I’ll cover for you this time.”

“I’m not asking for you to cover for me.”

“No, but I’m doing it anyways.” John left, and Virgil was alone once again.

Virgil returned home Saturday night, and quietly made his way up to his room not saying a word to anyone. He had hoped to avoid his father, but he was not going to be that lucky—he was called into his office first thing Sunday morning.

 

“Explain.”

“You know why I wasn’t there.”

“And you know how important Friday was to me. I wanted my whole family there to celebrate.”

Virgil sighed, he knew all too well how important it had been for his father. It had bugged him the whole weekend that he wasn’t there for him. Their father had given up his dream to start something new so that he could be with his sons and provide for them. He had worked hard, and deserved to celebrate something like this with his family. Virgil knew that, and he was proud of his father.

However, his father just didn’t seem to realize how important the band was to him. “I know, Dad. And I am sorry for missing it. However, I gave you my schedule and I even marked on it what days were the ones I absolutely could not miss. Still you scheduled it for this weekend. What was I supposed to do?”

“Skip it anyways?” His father didn’t seem moved at all by what Virgil had said.

Virgil slumped in the chair a little. “I love you, Dad, but you don’t seem to understand why band is so important to me.”

“It’s music, and I know that is important.”

“Yet, you still wave it away and expect me to just skip performances and competitions at your whim. You wouldn’t do that to Scott.”

“Scott’s in a sport, that’s diff—”

“No, it’s not.” Virgil couldn’t help but rub his face a bit trying to think. “Band is just as demanding as a sport. Not in the same way, but it is. However, you wouldn’t know that because you’ve never been to a competition or a practice.”

“You spend five hours a night playing the same piece over and over, and your performances are only eight minutes long. How is that anywhere near that Scott does? He works out, and runs for hours at a time—”

“Come and watch.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Come and watch us. You’re assuming things before even observing them. Come and watch us and see if your theory is right or wrong.”

“Fine.” His father sat up a little and pulled his tablet forward, bringing up his calendar. “When is your next practice and competition?”

Virgil had to gulp at that. “Well, we didn’t advance this year.”

“Meaning?” His father raised an eyebrow at him.

“The season is over. Monday we’ll start prepping for pep band.” Virgil sat up straight though and looked his father in the eye. “Next year. Promise me next year that you’ll come and watch us practice and perform.”

His father sat still for a moment and watched him, but finally gave a curt nod. “Very well. I will go and watch you next year. Is there anything the rest of the year I should know?”

“The dates that I know of are on my calendar.”

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

Virgil left his father’s office more nervous than excited. They hadn’t succeeded at district for a number of reason. After watching other bands throughout the past couple of months Virgil had gained a bit of understanding of what was expected of bands in general. His band worked hard, and he truly believed that it wasn’t the members that had failed them, but the show itself.

He had already talked to his director and the next spring he was going to help design the show for the next year. He as going to make sure what his father observed was the best Virgil could give him, and hoped his father would finally understand him better.

 

* * *

 

Virgil had finished his freshman year of high school with a 3.89 GPA—he had had a slight issue with one of his English papers. John of course had finished with a perfect 4.0, and Scott had graduated with a 4.0. Scott had also been accepted into the Air Force Academy, which the family celebrated, and Scott truly looked happy about.

Virgil spent that entire summer at school helping with the band and the show. He was still a part of it, practicing along side the other mellophone player—the third one had graduated and there wasn’t a freshman to replace him. They performed his show for the first time at the state fair and the crowds seemed to like it. The fact that they had gotten twentieth place out of fifty bands was definitely something to celebrate—the year before they had gotten thirty-eighth place.

 

The band was standing at the goal line on the football field—the football team having just finished their practice—waiting for the pit percussion to catch up with them. They did shortly after and the drum major blew her whistle and raised her hands to count out a simple beat.

The previous year—and even for the state fair contest—the band started out in a block and marched onto the field like an army advancing toward the front lines. It was normal, most bands did it, but Virgil thought it would attract the audiences’ attention if they marched onto the field a little different. He and the band director had chosen a piece of classical music to play for their show; The Four Seasons by Vivaldi. They would play short pieces from the four parts of the piece and the first was Spring. So, as the band marched onto the field, instead of looking mechanical—marching off in a block and then separating into more blocks or stretching out into lines—the band bloomed like the flowers of spring. From the first step off the goal line the lines that had formed the block split away and flowed down the field, ending in the rough shape of a daffodil.

Once the pit was ready, the drum major stepped up on her platform and raised her hands. They played through the show once, and then again—the band director and the guard director at the top of the bleachers discussing something.

“Virgil, could you come up here for a moment.”

Virgil jumped at the megaphone and blinked before it had registered what had been said. He darted from where he stood and made his way around the fence and up the stairs as fast as he could, panting a little when he reached the top.

They had been recording everything and showed him a portion they weren’t happy with. Virgil agreed, something was off and they chatted about it before Virgil ran back down the stairs and out onto the field again. The director then explained to the rest of the band what was going to happen. A change, not the first and definitely not the last.

They went through it a few times and Virgil was once again called up to the top of the bleachers.

This happened several times throughout the practice and Virgil was so busy trying to do his own part as well as help with the show, that he didn’t even notice the figure standing off to the side of the bleachers.

Back and forth, the band continued to practice various parts of the show hoping that that year they would finally make it past the district contest and to the regional one. If they did, it would be only the second time in the programs history.

They practiced for five hours that night and by the time the director dismissed them the entire band was dragging their feet. Virgil looked up and spotted his brothers and grandmother on the bleachers—John wasn’t old enough to drive yet and Scott was off at school so Grandma had to start picking them up again—watching and waved as he hurried off to put his horn up and join them in the car for the trip home.

 

That semester things seemed to go a little easier. Virgil had figured out a way to keep his grades up even with the added stress of band, and didn’t have to go and explain them to his father either. The band went to district, received the highest score their school had ever gotten, and were able to advance to the regional contest. They did not do as well at regionals, but everyone was happy with the seasons in general. 

So when Virgil was called into his father’s office the weekend after their regional competition he was confused as to what he might have done—or not done—to get his father’s attention.

“Sit down, Virgil. We need to talk.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes and no. I want to apologize.”

Virgil blinked and finished sitting down in the chair, not sure what to say. His father was not one to admit he was wrong—that is, he rarely ever said he was sorry for anything. He would usually do something that would make up for it, but never actually admitted to being at fault.

“Apologize for what?”

“For everything you said about me last year. You were right. I don’t take your music seriously. To me it’s entertainment.” His father leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “However, like we agreed I went and watched you practice and went to one of your contests—”

“Wait, you did? Why didn’t you say hi or anything?” Virgil leaned forward a little.

“Because I didn’t want you to change the way you acted just because I was there. I wanted to see what you did on a normal day.”

Virgil nodded and leaned back into the chair, his hands clasped and thumbs twiddling. “And what did you think?”

“I still stand by my opinion that band is not a sport—” He held up is hand just as Virgil opened his mouth to argue. “Let me finish. Sports require that each player be physically fit, loyal, and disciplined. Band is very similar, the only thing I would argue is that members don’t have to necessarily be in top shape—which isn’t a bad thing, it does allow more to participate than sports generally do.”

Virgil couldn’t help but tilt his head a little.

His father let out a small chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that both band and sports are like armies, only sports are like modern armies with their strategies and such. Band is like the armies of old, where it was more about showing your loyalties and whoever had the biggest gun won. The band worked hard this year, and you should be proud. Though even I can see some improvement needs to be made, and I hope you continue to do just that. Maybe next year you can go even farther.”

“Yes, we’re already talking about what music to use and what to do in the show.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I did have another question for you. Have you ever considered the military as a career?”

“The military?” Virgil sat there, his mouth hanging open, waiting for his mind to catch up.

“I know you’re not quite as obsessed with flying like Scott, but I think you would fit in with the military well.”

Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t ever thought about it, but even with the suggestion it didn’t take him long to shake his head. “No, I don’t think I’m military type.” 

His father shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “No, I don’t think so either. You’re too much of a pacifist. Still doesn’t hurt to at least consider it.”

“I suppose.” Virgil relaxed a little as he leaned back in the seat. “Was there anything else you needed? I do still have some homework to work on before tomorrow.”

“Just take any criticism I have of music with a grain of salt. More than likely I’m stressed or frustrated. Feel free to correct me, though I will probably bite back as well.”

“Duly noted.” Virgil smiled as he left his father’s office to work on his homework.

Things weren’t back to normal by any means, and probably never would be. He could tell his father still wished he would graduate early, and still asked often if he had figured out what he wanted to do. But at least he seemed to understand how important band was, at least for now.


	8. Movement VIII: Preoccupazione

Even after his father's apology life did not seem to change much in the household, but at the same time everything seemed to change. It was Scott's second year at the Air Force Academy and while during his first year he called home a lot and flew home whenever he could to visit, early into his second year the phone calls had stopped and he was busy most weekends.

Virgil was a little upset at first, he loved hanging out with his older brother, but after John reminded him that Scott was turning into an adult and creating his own life Virgil tried to be more understanding. Though that was hard when Alan complained that he missed his eldest brother as well—in fact he often complained that none of them were around much anymore and it made him lonely.

As much as that pained Virgil there wasn't much he could do about it. John was getting more and more into his studies and spent most of his time either in his room researching one thing or another, or on the roof looking at the sky. He was already talking to some astrophysicists online and discussing some really hard topics with them. Sometimes John would tell Virgil about a particularly exciting topic which went completely over his head, but he nodded and smiled. He loved seeing John so excited.

Gordon was rarely at home anymore. He had swim practice before and after school almost every day plus the weekends—his coach made him take Fridays and Sundays off so he wouldn't burn out. He would also be gone for several days when there was a swim meet to go to.

Virgil couldn't avoid the blame any more than his brothers. At the end of his sophomore year he had auditioned to be the drum major for marching—-even though traditionally, at their school, only seniors were chosen. He had done it for practice, so he'd know what to expect the next year, but the band had chosen him almost unanimously. So he was not only helping with the design of the show and the music, but he would be leading the band as well. That mean that he spent almost all his spare time at school. However, when he was home, he spent as much time as he could hanging out with Alan and playing with him—though Alan's interests had become more inline to Scott and John's through the years rather than Virgil's. Still, he hated to see his the youngest one pining for attention from their busy family.

Their father was still entirely engrossed in his work. Virgil knew he was trying to pay more attention to everyone—He tried to meet with each of his sons once or twice a month to see what was going on in their lives. He had also gone to one of Gordon's meets and was able to see him win a few of his races. But more often than not he would be locked in his office, or off at his office in Wichita.

Virgil's own relationship with is father had improved a little, but he still felt that his father didn't care as much about the band and the group's accomplishments as he would if it were a true sport in his eyes.

When the band played at the district contest that year Virgil had asked him to go, but he had canceled last minute because of a meeting-Virgil was upset, but tried to be understanding. He knew there were some things his father couldn't help. When they made it to regional Virgil once again asked his father to come and watch. His father, however, never showed up and even claimed that Virgil had never told him. Virgil decided to not even bother inviting him to State. In fact he didn't even tell his father they had advanced.

* * *

Virgil was standing on an aluminum platform, his arms waving through the air in measured beats as he conducted the band before him. They were doing a straight run through to see how well they would do with a few changes they had made.

They were only five minutes into their eight minute show when the fog horn sounded from behind him. He frowned as he dropped his arms and glanced around the field looking for a hole the size of a large truck or a guard member who had ended up in the wrong place. When everything looked good from his view he turned and frowned up at the director.

It wasn't the director that had caught his eye, it was the sopping wet head of Gordon as he jumped down the stairs to reach the fence at the bottom.

Virgil frowned even deeper, his bushy black eyebrows almost touching as he carefully took the four steps down onto solid ground and made his way between the timpani and the marimba to reach the fence while the band was told to take a quick break. "What are you doing here? We still have a good two hours of practice left."

"Dad's calling us home. John said he's all riled up about something."

"I can't leave."

"You think I wanted to leave practice? I've still got to shave a whole second off my time to have any chance of winning the winter championships in another month."

"You have a month. State is tomorrow."

"Oh, that does make it difficult to tell you the rest."

Virgil leveled a gaze at his next youngest brother. "Spill it."

"I guess the word on the street—"

"John is not the word on the street."

"He was told that if we didn't come home we would be grounded for the next two weeks." Gordon pinched his lips off to one side waiting for Virgil to react.

Virgil took a deep breath through his nose. "And if I go home, what guarantee is there that he's going to let me leave again in the morning?

"From the way John described it, he's wanting to keep us home all weekend."

"What the hell for?" Virgil threw up his arms attracting the attention of some of the percussionists nearby.

"Hey, I'm just the messenger." Gordon raised his hands up in surrender.

"Well if those are my two choices then I'll just have to sleep in the woods tonight."

"You can't be—you are being serious, aren't you?" Gordon widened his eyes and blinked slowly at his brother. "You're just going to go and sleep on the ground?"

"You're the one that told me I needed to stand up to Dad more."

"Well, yes, but I mean, this is different. It's cold, and did you hear the coyote's howling last night?"

"Gordon I cannot miss tomorrow. Who brought you? Grandma or John?"

"John."

Virgil nodded. John had just gotten his license a week or so ago, but hadn't waited long before asking their father if he could drive Scott's SUV that had sat unused by the barn while Scott was at the academy. "Alright, then I need you to go get me one of the sleeping bags John keeps in the back of the truck for impromptu star gazing sessions. I'll stay near the school and sleep up next to the building. Should be safe there."

"Virgil, John was grounded for a month when he covered for you last time."

"I never asked him to."

Gordon shook his head, splattering Virgil with drops of chlorinated water. "I can't be grounded for a month."

"Then ask John to do it."

"I don't know. If Dad even suspects that I helped—"

"Just go and ask John. If he doesn't want to lend it to me, then just leave."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'll figure something out."

Gordon frowned at him and turned to walk away but stopped a moment later and turned back. "If you get eaten—"

"Just go!"

Virgil couldn't help but smile a little at Gordon's own smile as he took off.

Virgil took a moment to rub his face before he looked up at the director and nodded. The fog horn was blown again to get everyone's attention as Virgil made his way back up to the platform.

He waited a moment for everyone to find their starting positions, raised his hands, and then counted off three beats and the band took off. They arced across the fields and flowed in and out of the different lines while the guard pranced and darted around the band members with their colorful flags and rifles.

They were almost to the end—and as far as Virgil could tell they were doing a wonderful job—when the fog horn blew again stopping everything.

He let his hands fall to his sides with a huff. All he wanted to do was get a complete run through one time. He turned to look up at the director to see what the problem was this time when he saw John's red head slowly bobbing down the stairs.

Virgil clenched his fists, jumped the four feet off the podium and made his way to the closest gate. He stood and waited on John to catch up with him and then stormed around the side of the locker room that sat next to the field.

"I take it you're not going to lend me a sleeping bag." Virgil crossed his arms and looked up at John.

John was neutral, he had his hands in his pockets and was looking up at the stars above them. As always, it was so hard to tell what he was thinking. "I don't think you're thinking this through enough."

"What is there to think about? If I go home, I won't be going to State. If I finish practice and go home I won't be going to State. So I just won't go home."

John finally looked away from the stars and met Virgil's eyes. "Something has happened. I don't know what, but it was bad enough that's it's spooked Dad. He want's all of us home now. Even Scott is flying in."

"I can't miss this weekend, John."

"I know. Once we get home I'll help you talk to Dad. Maybe we can figure out a plan."

"I can't trust a maybe. I have to go this weekend. I'm the drum major. I helped design this show. I have to go."

"I'm going to get grounded again if I help you."

"I didn't ask you to last time."

"No, but you are asking me this time."

"John, please."

"Fine. At least get a ride over to Mr. Ambrose's place. You'll be safe there. I'm sure he'll even bring you back in the morning."

"And what about Dad?"

"I'll let him know you're safe."

"John, you are a life saver!" Virgil pulled John into a hug and patted him firmly on the back making John stiffen a little in surprise.

"Alright, get off." John pushed himself away and smoothed down his shirt, but couldn't help a small smile curl the corner of his mouth. "You better do well tomorrow."

"No worries, we're going to be great!"

Practice continued on without any more interruptions and everyone felt ready for the competition the next day. Virgil was able to get a ride from one of his friends to Don Ambrose's place and soon he found himself standing on the old man's doorstep knocking on the door.

He could hear the sound of someone bumping into something, a light was turned on, and someone on the other side was grumbling about late night visitors.

The door opened and the man standing there had wispy white hair, and a grimace that made Virgil take a step back. "Ah, Mr. Ambrose. I'm sorry for stopping by so late."

The man squinted his eyes and looked him up and down. "You're one of the Tracy boys. Too short for Scott, John's the red head, and the younger two are blond, so you must be Virgil." His face softened a bit as a tight smiled created more creases on his face. "What can I do for you this late at night."

"I need a place to crash, and a ride back to the high school in the morning."

The smile on the man's face faded a bit and he raised a bushy eyebrow. "Does your father know you're here?"

"John knows, he's the one that suggested I ask. I'm sure he's told Dad by now."

"I see. Having a difference of opinion with your father are you?"

Virgil shrugged, "Just the usual it seems. Band's not a sport so not worth his attention."

Don nodded and stepped back into the house gesturing for Virgil to enter. "I've got to deal with an old heifer that's got a lame leg in the morning, but Nick should be able to take you where you need to go."

Virgil stepped into the old house with a thanks and nodded. "I appreciate it. The band is going to State tomorrow and I can't miss it."

"Ah, yes, saw that in the local news. Congratulations."

Virgil closed the door behind him before following Don down the hall.

"Nick! We have company!"

"Dammit, Don, how often to I have to tell you not to yell! I'm not deaf!"

"You could have fooled me! You don't listen to half of what I say!"

"I'd listen if you ever had anything interesting to say!" Another old man appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed. "And who the hell is coming to visit so late at night—Oh, Virgil Tracy! What a pleasant surprise." Nick's face quickly transformed into a bright smile, quite the opposite of his husband's. "Come this way. Have you had dinner? I have some leftovers. Don didn't like my stuffed chicken valentino dinner that I spent hours making."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that fancy crap. Just cook me a steak and some green beans every day and I'd be happy."

"The doctor said no more steak. You have to eat chicken or pork."

"The only pork I'll eat is bacon." Don mumbled as he made his way into the other room.

"Just ignore him. I'll warm you up something to eat. Just coming from band practice I'm guessing?"

"Thank you." Virgil took the seat Nick gestured to and a sat down. "Yeah, we've got State tomorrow."

"And you didn't think you're father would let you go?"

"How did—"

"I was listening." He smiled as he nodded toward the open window that was just next to the front door that was on the other side of the wall.

"Something's come up, no idea what, but he sent John to pick me up. I was afraid he wouldn't let me leave again if I went home."

"I see. First time to State though, don't want to miss that."

"No, that's why I came here. Mr. Ambrose said he had something to do with a cow, and that you could take me to the high school in the morning."

"Ah, yeah. He found old Pasiphae limping in the field today so he's got her locked up in the barn and Doctor Simmons is coming by in the morning to take a look." Nick had his head in the refrigerator as he spoke, pulling dish after dish out of it and setting them on the counter.

"So you don't mind taking me?"

"Sure, no problem. What time do you have to be there?"

"Eight. We're going to do a little last minute practice in the morning and then leave around Ten. We're not slated to perform until two—at least for the first performance. If we win we would perform again later in the evening."

Nick continued to ask Virgil about the band and their program as he readied a plate and stuck it in the microwave to warm it up. In just a few minutes Virgil had a plate of the tastiest looking chicken with some sort of sauce, a side of mashed cauliflower, and a pile of fresh mixed vegetables he was sure had come from Nicks' own garden. He didn't take any time to dig into the meal, nodding and making the proper affirmative or negative noises to answer the various questions Nick was asking him.

Once he had cleaned his plate Nick took it from him and sat down a large piece of double chocolate cake in front of him. "New recipe. Tried substituting some homemade dressing instead of the sour cream the recipe called for."

Virgil didn't hesitate to take a bite. "Mmm. That's good. I'd recommend giving Grandma this recipe, but I'd hate to see how she'd mess it up." That caused Nick to let out a bark of a laugh.

"What is going on in here! You sound like a pack of hyenas." Don sat down next to Nick and eyed the cake that Virgil was already half way through. "You didn't give him the last of it did you?"

"No, there's still plenty left."

"Good, I'll have a piece."

"You don't deserve a piece, you didn't even eat all of your veggies."

"Damnit Nicky, I'm not a kid."

"You sure as hell act like one." Nick mumbled as he got up to get Don his piece of cake.

Virgil did his best to hide his chuckle at the two.

"Right. Since it looks like you're father's not going to go to your contest, would you want me and Nick to go? The Doc should be done by noon at the latest and I thought I heard you say you didn't perform 'til two?"

"Oh, you don't have to. I'm kind of used to it by now." The smile that had been on Virgil's lips faded.

"You do know your father loves you, right?"

"Yeah, I know. And I know that his business has kept him really busy—it's just, he made sure to go to all of Scott's regional and state competitions, but has only been to one of my contests. He just doesn't care even though he claims that he does."

"Virgil, I've known your father since he was a little kid and the only thing that matter to him most over anything else was his family. I doubt that has changed at all. Everything he does—is doing with that company of his, is for you boys and no one else."

"I know, really I do." Virgil let a shadow of a smile creep on his face, but it didn't last long. "It just feels like I don't live up to his expectations."

"He has no expectations. I may not be in his head, but I can guarantee you that."

"Don, quit making the boy feel worse than he probably already does." Nick was back with a much smaller piece of cake that he sat in front of Don.

Don looked at it, and at the now empty plate in front of Virgil. "He got more than me."

"Yes he did. He's young and has a competition tomorrow. You're old and need to watch what you eat." Nick poked Don in the stomach and was able to get a bit of a sweet smile out of the grumpy old man.

Virgil slept on the couch that night and woke when there was a knock on the door. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the grumbling of Don as he stomped down the stairs and then cursed as he bumped into a table in the hall woke him up enough that he wasn't going to get back to sleep easily.

He lay on the couch, thinking about what was going to happen that day. He was nervous, and was sure every member of the band was just as nervous as he was. He also had the added anxiety of defying his father's wishes once again and going behind his back. He was sure he wasn't going to get off as easily as he had the last time.

He sat up, the blanket still half covering his legs, and looked around blearily. The living room looked as if it had started nicely decorated but over the years things had been added, changed, and moved so that nothing really matched and every flat surface was covered in knickknacks, tractor parts, and a lot of pictures. Nick and Don had raised two children, one boy and one girl. Virgil knew from his father's stories that he had run around with their son when he was young and had even dated their daughter once or twice.

There was a particular picture that sat next to the couch Virgil slept on that he found himself staring at. It had three adults with five kids gathered in front of them. It was dark in the room and it took a second to realize he knew every single person in the picture. It was Nick and Don on one side with their two kids in front of them. The other adult looked familiar, but Virgil had to finally pick the picture up and tilted it to catch the light that was now streaming in from the hall.

The man was much younger than Virgil could remember him, but there was no doubt it was his grandfather. He examined the three boys and smiled a little when his assumption was proven right—it was his father and his two younger brothers. His father stood behind the younger two his hands on their shoulders, smiling brightly at the camera.

"He was about ten in that picture."

Virgil jumped at the voice and glanced up to Don standing in the doorway.

"They had all helped with a calving. It was an early birth, the heifer was still in the fields and the boys were out playing when they came across her. Your father took control of the situation and sent one of your brothers back here to let us know. They all helped with getting the calve out safely. Your father was very proud with how his brothers had helped."

"I honestly can't imagine my father wanting to help do something like that."

"I think it wasn't so much wanting to do it, it was what needed to be done, so he did."

Virgil nodded a little and sat staring at the young figure of his dad. Scott looked just like him—hair, stature, they were carbon copies. But he could also see Gordon's smirky smile in the young boy in the picture, and Alan's bright eyes. He couldn't see anything of himself or John, though he knew there were somethings they both inherited from their father. Still, sometimes it just felt like they were on opposite ends of the spectrum and wasn't sure they would ever understand each other.

"You still got a couple hours to sleep."

"Yeah, I know." Virgil carefully put the picture down and rubbed his face. "I'm just anxious about today."

"I'm not surprised. It's a big competition."

"Yeah, but I'm also worried about Dad. John said he wanted us all home, all weekend. Even Scott was coming home."

"Do you want me to call and make sure nothing is wrong?"

"No. Even if there were, I can't go. The band is counting on me. It's not like there's a spare drum major, even if there was then we'd have a hole in a line somewhere. We've gotta be perfect and everyone has to be there."

"I'll come with you." Don pushed himself off the doorframe and turned to leave.

"What?" Virgil watched him disappear and then reappear in the next door down the hall that led into the same room.

"You lot have chaperones right? I'll come and cheer you on. Heck, maybe Nick'll come too."

"You really don't have to." Virgil shook his head, not sure how the conversation ended up like it had. "And what about the heifer?"

"Ah, the doc already looked at her. She's hurt it, but not badly. Just gotta keep her in the barn for a few weeks." Don was about to disappear again, but paused and turned around. "If you don't think you'll be going back to sleep I'll wake up Nick and have him make us some breakfast."

"No, you don't have to—"

"Too late. It's done." Don disappeared up the stairs leaving Virgil blinking into the darkness.

Virgil rubbed his face again and looked around—his eyes settling on a section of the wall next to the fireplace. It was packed with pictures and letters of commendation. In the center of the mass was a shadow box filled with a handful of medals, awards for valor and bravery.

This was Nick's little shrine to his husband. Everything Don had done was framed and mounted on the wall. All forty years of service in the sheriff's office, including fifteen years as sheriff.

Virgil found himself walking over to the wall and reading some of the commendations. They were varied from protecting local wildlife from the growing threat of out of season hunters, to solving kidnapping cases, and catching wanted criminals.

"Don keeps asking me to take all that down."

Virgil jumped again as he turned to find Nick standing next to him.

"He complains that he didn't deserve any of it. He was just doing his job. He'd never admit it, but I think he regrets retiring when he did."

"I think the town regrets it too." Virgil smiled a little. Everyone knew of Don Ambrose and how great of a sheriff he had been. "Are you sure you guys—"

"Don's made up his mind. There's no changing it now." Nick smiled at him in the dark and then laid a arm on his shoulder and turned him toward the kitchen. "Come, let's get some food in you. You've got a long day ahead of you."

Filled with Nick's breakfast Virgil climbed into the old pick-up truck the couple used to get around and they took off for the school.

When they arrived Virgil went right off and started making sure everyone was showing up, that they had what they needed for the day, and that all the instruments were in working order. There was a small bit of panic while the flutists were passing around a dollar bill, using it to clean the pads on their instruments and discovered that one of the flutes was missing a pad and unable to be played. Luckily the director had some spare pads and they found one that would fit for the time being—at least it allowed the instrument to be played even if it didn't fit properly.

They spent an hour practicing out on the field, but there wasn't much more they could do to prepare so they loaded up the trailer with their uniforms and instruments, and then the buses and headed out.

Virgil was in the second of three busses as well as Don and Nick. Several people asked Virgil why they were there, but Virgil would just shrug and say that they wanted to come—he honestly didn't understand it himself. Everyone knew Don was supportive of the community and the school and all the teams did—he would donate to whoever needed money without a thought, but was never one to actually go to the games and contests to cheer them on.

Virgil didn't let the oddity consume him though, they weren't doing any harm being there, and it was kind of nice to have someone there to cheer him and the band on—though he doubted they would go so far as to join the other parents in their cheering section in the stands.

They made it to Topeka and Washburn University in record time. They had a few hours till they were to perform so the director let the students wander for a bit—many of them had never been to a place so huge and crowded before.

Virgil went with some of his friends to buy some ice cream and hot dogs to eat for lunch, and he even bought some souvenirs to take home to his brothers. They spent the better part of the two hours allotted to them watching other bands perform discussing what they liked, didn't like, and what they could possibly use the next year in their own show.

Virgil was amazed by some of the things the bigger, richer bands were able to do. They pulled out light boards that would display animations and prompt the crowds to cheer. Their guards had LEDs sewn into their flags and some instruments were so shiny Virgil was sure they had lights on them as well.

Everyone returned to the busses almost more anxious than they had been upon arrival—watching the other bands made them realize just how small and basic their band was. Still they had made it here with their small basic show and would show them just what you could do without all the fancy stuff.

Virgil was immediately busy going around and making sure everyone had returned and were starting to gather their instruments and uniforms. He had just jumped off one of the busses in his own decked out uniform, helmet with the fuzzy plume sticking out under his arm as he pulled on his white gloves.

He looked around for the director, he had just thought of something they might be able to pull off before they were slated to go on the field and wanted to talk to him about it. The parking lot was crowded and it took him a moment to find him in the mass of people. He was standing by the trailer talking to Don and Nick. Virgil wondered for a moment why they weren't in the stands but didn't really have time to follow that train of thought.

"Ah, Virgil, there you are." The director cut off whatever he had been talking about with Don and turned to face him. "I was just about to look for you. I had an idea I wanted to go over with you."

"I did to!" Virgil's face brightened as the director guided him off in an odd direction. "Where are we going?"

"I was able to get access to a small conference room so we could talk."

"But we're due to go on the field soon. They should be coming to lead us to the warm-up area any minute."

"No worries, we've been bounced back a few spots, we have time."

"Bounced back? Why?"

"One of the other bands needed to perform and get going back home for some reason. I didn't really inquire, but agreed cause I wanted to talk to you and this gave me the time to do so."

"Oh, well then, that was lucky!"

"It sure was. Here, this way." The director led Virgil into the stadium and a small room just inside the entrance.

They sat and talked for several minutes, discussing small changes in the music that could be made to improve the overall effect of this or that section of the show. Virgil was so into the discussion he completely lost track of the time and was surprised for a moment when Don stuck his head in and said that the band was in the tunnel and waiting for them.

"What? What about warm-ups?" Virgil stood up suddenly and looked between Don and his director.

"Anne took care of the warm-ups. Don't worry." The director smiled and thanked Don who disappeared back outside.

"Oh. Do they know about the changes though?"

"As good as the ideas are, I think we best stick to what we've been practicing. Any changes could confuse them and cause them to make mistakes they normally wouldn't have."

Virgil nodded, though confused by the sudden change in his directors attitude toward everything they had just been talking about. Regardless, they had a show to do, and now apparently was the time. It almost took Virgil off guard, he was so used to going through warm-ups with the band and prepping himself for what was to come, his nerves were a little shaken that everything was happening so suddenly.

His director patted him on the back and gave him a word of encouragement and that seemed to help him steady himself. He took a deep breath and then nodded.

They made their way around the large stadium to the tunnel where the band stood and waited. Virgil could see them looking around and waved a little so that they would see them coming. He could see the wave of relief as the word of their approach spread through the tight block of red and black clad marchers.

Virgil squeezed through the tight space along the side of the band to the front where Anne was waiting quite impatiently.

"God, where did you go? We were getting seriously worried!" She reached over and grabbed her flute where it had been stashed on one of the percussion carts, unsure if she would suddenly have to lead the band.

"Mr. Miller and I were talking about a few things... and you know, I'm not sure why. You would have done fine anyways if I hadn't been here." Virgil smiled at her and she smirked back.

"Of course I would have, I was going to be the drum major if you hadn't been." Her smirk turned into a smile as she leaned in and gave him a quick hug. "It wouldn't have been the same though."

"Alright! It's time!" Mr. Miller called over the low mumbling among the band. Everything went silent as Anne made her way to the empty spot in the flute line and Virgil strapped on his helmet and turned to face the field.

They were given the go ahead to march out to the end field and Virgil turned around and gave the band a three count start and then turned and led them to the end zone where they would wait for the next signal. It took a full minute standing on the line before they were given the okay to take the field.

Virgil turned, gave the band a big smile and raised his hands. Once again he gave them three beats and the band started off around him, taking the field on their own. Once the block of marchers had flowed out into their wavy, swirling lines Virgil followed the end line down to the sideline and followed the percussion pit to the middle of the field and helped them to quickly set up their own equipment.

It didn't take them long and soon the band was standing at attention waiting. Virgil took the steps up to the platform, double checked everyone's positions and then turned to face the stands and the judges.

"The Marching Bobcats of Western Plains High School are ready." Virgil stood straight and stared up at the press box where the judges sat waiting. It seemed to take forever, but finally the speakers crackled to life.

"Marching Bobcats, the field is yours."

Virgil saluted and then turned to the band, gave them a curt nod and raised his arms into the air. The band replied bringing their instruments to their lips and with a soft twitter from the flutes they started.

Eight minutes is not a long time. Especially when you are busy doing something that you only have eight minutes to do. When Virgil finally cut the band off and lowered his arms he was taking deep breaths. It wasn't that he was winded, he had stayed on that podium the entire time, but he had held his breath several times concentrating on what he and the band were doing.

When the rest of the world finally came back into focus he could hear the applause in the stands, and couldn't stop a small smile from spreading out on his face. He turned and took the steps down to the ground as he heard one of the snares count off the beats and cue the band to regroup and head for the sidelines.

Virgil immediately turned and helped the pit percussion to load up their carts and quickly followed the band off of the field. He didn't let any thoughts about the show register until they were completely off the field and even back to the busses. As he finally looked around to the other band members he wasn't even sure any of them were registering what they had just done, or how well they had done it. There were a few whispers, but for the most part everyone was quiet and wandering around as if they had nowhere to go, but couldn't stand still.

"Everyone, over here!" Mr. Miller was waving toward them and slowly the band surrounded the director to see what he had to say.

"That was the best show you lot have ever done." The director was smiling wide—something that didn't happen too often. "It will be a half hour before they're ready to announce the awards. Put your instruments away quickly, we need to get back to the entrance as soon as possible. Mary, Steve, have two of your guard grab the sun flags, they're the boldest of the bunch and look nice with our uniforms."

Suddenly, the band erupted in excitement and rushed around him to get onto the busses. Virgil made his way to the director and was surprised to find Don talking to him.

"Virgil, that was an amazing show." Nick appeared next to him and gave him a slap on the shoulder. "No matter what score you get, you should be really proud."

"I am." Virgil was too excited and happy to wonder why those two kept showing up nearby.

Virgil was sure they had done well, but just how well he didn't know. There were some really good bands there, and this was just their first time making it this far.

As soon as all the instruments had been put away they quickly formed some lines and made their way over to the stadium again. They were the last band to enter the gates which were flanked with state police. Virgil, Mary, and Steve led the group as they were taken onto the track and then down onto the filed. The band lined up behind them while Virgil took the front position—Mary and Steve a step behind him, with two more guard members behind that holding out the flags framing the band's leaders.

"We would like to thank all the Class B bands for coming and performing for us tonight. We will now be awarding the bands for best music, best show, best auxiliary, best visual, as well as first, second, and third places."

The crowds around them applauded and parents of the various bands yelled and cheered. Virgil straightened up and did his best to pay attention to the voice that echoed through the stadium.

"For best music, with a score of fourteen out of fifteen points goes to the Marching Chargers of Horton High School."

The audience applauded and one section screamed the loudest as the drum major at the opposite end of the line saluted and marched forward to claim their trophy. They shook hands with the official handing them out and then returned to their spot setting the trophy on the ground before them.

Virgil slumped a little with a frown as he glanced at Mary and Steve who glanced back at him, their smiling faces a little less bright than they had been before.

"For best show, with a score of thirteen out of fifteen points goes to Western Plains High School."

Virgil couldn't even hear the roar of the crowd as his mouth dropped and he stared at the official that was staring back at him. Steve elbowed him in the side and he snapped out of it, saluting and walking forward to take the award. Mary and Steve's smiles were back as Virgil held it out for them to see real quick before setting it on the ground before them.

"For best auxiliary—or best guard performance—with a score of fifteen out of fifteen is the guard of Western Plains High School."

Mary squealed in Virgil's ear before gathering her composure and marching forward to accept the award on behalf of the guard. Virgil couldn't help but laugh a little as she came back and was bouncing on her feet. She held onto the award for a good long while before realizing that she needed to set it down with the other one.

"The last categorical award, best visual, with a score of ten out of fifteen goes to Western Plains High School."

This time Virgil could hear the muffled excitement of his bandmates behind him. He saluted and went to claim the award, while he calculated points in his head. For them to have snatched three of the four secondary categories, they had to have placed high. The question was just how high. It wasn't unheard of for a non-placing band to sweep the axillary awards, but it was rare.

Virgil took a deep breath as they waited. The official that had handed out the awards was helping to move a table forward that had the three biggest trophies on it.

"And now before we announce the top three bands in this years competition we would like to thank you for all your hard work and dedication to your music and your schools and regardless how you placed we hope to see you next year as well."

Virgil glanced to the side and it looked like everyone lined up next to them were starting to get a little antsy.

"Third place goes to a band who's show has been consistent throughout the season, and continued that consistency here today. They are a band that is spot on in the technical aspects of their show. Please step forward Horton High School."

The members of the band cheered as the drum major at the end of the line saluted and stepped forward.

Virgil had hoped for at least a third place finish. This was the first time their band had ever been to the state competition while most of the other bands were regulars. The odds that they beat the seasoned bands was extremely slim. But, they did get the axillary trophies.

"Second place goes to a band that is no stranger to performing here every year, and this year does not disappoint. They came in with a strong show and entertained all with it. Please step forward Blue Valley North High School."

It as the drum major next to them that saluted and walked forward. Virgil let out a big sigh and glanced to Mary and Steve—their smiles having faded a little. It had been a fun, but he doubted they could have done better than those bands that had used the spiffy lights and elaborate backdrops.

They had had backdrops too, trees and a cave. The trees were recycled from the previous year and had been made by a few of the band members. The cave was new, but Virgil had helped them figure out a way to make it interactive—a dragon would pop out and roar at a particular part of the music. They were nice, but nothing compared to what the other bands had.

"First place." The announcer paused to let the audience calm down a little. "This was a difficult decision for the judges. The band they finally decided on was a bit of an underdog in this competition. Having only made it past district twice in the program's history, they made it to regional, and finally to this competition today."

Virgil's eyes widened a little as he glanced to Mary and Steve. Mary's mouth had dropped open, and Steve's smile had disappeared and he was just staring at the presenter.

"Please give a round of applause to Western Plains High School."

The crowd erupted in cheers, but none as loud as the cheers that came from behind him. It took him a moment to remember that he had to go collect the trophy and took a step, stopped, quickly saluted, and then continued his trek to the presenter. He shook his hand thanked the man and took the large three tiered trophy that probably weighed at least five pounds. He walked back to Mary and Steve and sat the trophy down. The announcer waited until the cheers settled and then thanked the bands again before they were led one by one off of the field.

Virgil was met by the band director who gave them all big hugs and congratulated them. He also reminded them that their day wasn't over yet. All the first place bands would do an exhibition performance at the end of the night after the Class A bands had finished performing.

Virgil barely acknowledged it, and was ready to head to the busses and figure out some food—he was starving—when he was led to yet another room. This one was huge, and soon all the band members were sent there. They were given pizza and pop and spent the next several hours just hanging out. They would occasionally go and watch the bigger bands or just hang out in the room napping, chatting, and waiting.

The exhibition show wasn't as good as their main performance, but they were all quite tired and ready to go home, though the thrill of their win would take days to wear off.

It was well past midnight by the time Virgil had returned home. Don and Nick had disappeared as soon as they had arrived back at the school, so Virgil had to get a ride with one of his friends. He was dropped off right in front of the house and as he pulled his bags from the car he hesitated going in. He knew his father would be mad at him. Wondered if he would get grounded or if he'd be able to talk his way out of it like the last time he had defied his father's orders. Either way, he didn't really care at this point. He had gone, they had won, and absolutely nothing could bring him down.

He opened the door and stepped in, kicking his shoes off to land next to the ones already there. He poked his nose into the living room where John was sitting, his nose in a book. This was a little odd—not John having his nose in a book, but him being in the living room when there was a clear dark sky out. No one else seemed to be around, even though Scott was supposed to be home as well.

"Welcome home."

Virgil jumped a little as he looked up and saw John watching him.

"How did you do?"

"We won." Virgil broke into a smile, but it faltered when John stood, walked over and pulled him into a hug.

Virgil took the chance to hug him back, a hug from John was a rare thing, but at the same time something just felt off. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Nah. But Dad will want to know you're home."

"Is he mad?"

John let go and shrugged, then returned to the couch and his book.

"John, did I hear—Virgil!" Scott was in the doorway and pulled Virgil into a tight hug. "Jeez we were so worried about you."

That got Virgil's senses on alert. "I missed you too. What is going on?"

"You need to see Dad. He's been worried sick about you."

"He knew where I was. John told him right?"

"Yes, he knew, but—well, just go talk to him."

"Scott what is going on?" Virgil had to push himself away from Scott or else he thought his older brother would not let him go.

"Dad will want to tell you himself, go." Scott reached up and ruffled Virgil's hair real quick before leaning in and kissing him on top of the head. "I'm just so glad you're home and safe."

Virgil was bristling. Something was going on, and he seemed to be the only one that didn't know.

He made his way down the hall to his father's office. Virgil glanced back at his brother who stood watching him and then reached up and knocked lightly on the doorframe.

The door was open, but his father had his head in his hands looking down at something on the desk. At the knock he popped up and it seemed to take a second before his eyes focused on Virgil. Once they had he quickly stood up, took the few steps to get to him and pulled Virgil into his own tight hug.

"Thank god you're back."

"Dad, what is going on?"

"I'll explain. Sit. Sit." He led Virgil over to the desk and sat him down in his own chair.

Virgil blinked a little, stunned that he was sitting in his father's chair, they had never been allowed to sit in it. "Dad, you're scaring me. What is going on?"

"Why didn't you come home when I asked?"

"You know why. I had to go to my competition. I wasn't going to let you stop me, it was important."

"Yes, of course. I know. Still I needed you to come home." He started to pace in front of Virgil, his arms crossed.

"Dad!"

His father didn't say anything more, but reached past him, grabbed something from the desk, and shoved it into his hands.

Virgil looked down at the papers and blinked. They were copies. Copies of letters from his father's own stationary from his office in Wichita. On each of them were written notes. It was messy writing, scrawled unevenly on the paper and it took Virgil tilting his head a little to read them.

'Tracy, your company is responsible for my son's death. There is nothing you can do to make it any better. Stop trying.'

'Tracy. The more you try to atone for your misdeeds the worse they are. You will be judged and you will be found guilty.'

'Tracy. You will never understand the sorrow of losing a son. If you did you would understand that I want nothing more to do with you ever again.'

Virgil glanced at the dates written on the copies and then up at his father. "You got these over the past several weeks?"

"Yes. Delivered straight to my office. There were more as well."

"More?"

"This is why I didn't go to your other two contests. At this point it didn't seem that he knew I had any children."

"So you wanted to keep it that way."

"I did. I had, of course, handed the originals over to the police. However, Friday I received that last one." His father tugged the bottom letter out of the stack and laid it on top.

'Tracy, because of your company and the machine you designed I lost my son. I will never forgive you for this. Soon you will know what it is like to lose one of your sons.'

"Who the hell is this guy? Why does he think you're responsible for his son's death?"

"Because I am." His father slumped down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "One of the first machines we tried to improve was a construction crane so that we could speed up the time it would take to build my building."

"Wait, I remember this, the crane broke and dropped the load on the cab killing the operator."

"That's the one."

"But that wasn't your fault. It wasn't anything to do with the crane's design, the metal used was defective. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it from happening."

"There are always things you can do to keep people safe."

"Dad, you can't blame yourself for something you didn't think of before the accident happened. No one can predict the future. Things happen and the best we can do is try and figure out a way for it to never happen again. That's how things have always been done."

"Well I'm trying to change that. I don't want anyone to lose someone close because of something that could have been prevented."

It was silent in the room as Virgil watched his father for a long second. "Dad, it wasn't your fault. The plane crash. There was nothing you could have done to preven—"

"I could have gone with—"

"And then we'd be without either of our parents!" Virgil sighed and then stood, walked over to his father and kneeled down in front of him so he could look up at him. "Dad. I don't remember what led to him telling me this, but Scott told me once that saying sorry will only take us so far. The best thing we can do to show sympathy is to fix it and make sure it doesn't happen again. And you are doing that. Yes, there was an accident, but accidents are going to happen. You have done all you can to make up for something that was out of your control."

"He doesn't seem to think so."

"Dad, even if your company hadn't designed that crane, that steel would have been in some other crane and the same thing would have happened."

"I suppose." His father sighed and reached over to squeeze his shoulder.

"Still why is he on such a rampage?"

"It's the anniversary of his son's death. Three years ago today."

"Alright, so he's still grieving and sent this last letter. Why did you think this was going to be the real threat?"

"Well, I gave it to the police like I had in the past. They suggested since he now knew of your existence that you all stay home for the weekend. I honestly thought your season was over, you hadn't mentioned anything after your regionals."

"I didn't tell you cause I was mad at you." Virgil reached up and squeezed the hand that was on his shoulder. "If you had just told me what was going on, we could have prevented all of this unnecessary worry."

"You're right." His father smiled down at him. "You are all becoming fine adults and I need to start trusting you."

"You do. Now, why were you so worried about me tonight. Us staying home was just a precaution right?"

"They went to check in on him and he wasn't at home. They did find empty rifle cartridges, the box for a scope, and several other aborted threats. They think he stole the letterhead when he was last in my office two years ago. He's spent this entire time planning."

"So now he was a real threat."

"Yes, you were well on your way to Topeka by that point. They put out a bulletin looking for him. He was spotted on the campus of Washburn University."

"He was at the competition." Virgil stood back up and started pacing again. "Mr. Ambrose. He knew, didn't he? That's why he insisted on going."

"I had went over there this morning, but he assured me you'd be okay. That he would keep an eye on you." His father leaned forward a little his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. "Even his hourly updates didn't keep me from worrying."

"And my director?"

"I'm pretty sure Don told him. Said they were going to take you somewhere safe until your performance."

"They did, which confused me at the time, but makes complete sense now. They even moved us to perform last. Did they catch the guy or is he still out there?"

"They tried to apprehend him there, but he slipped away. They didn't catch sight of him again until after you lot were heading home. Then he was spotted heading in the same direction."

"Shit, Dad! I would have understood, could have done something."

"I was going to tell you at first, but then I learned that it was State you were going to. I didn't want you to miss it, nor did I want you to worry about us. You needed to concentrate on your music."

"Dad!" Virgil turned on his father but suddenly noticed how pale he looked. "Damn. Scott and John know right?"

"Yeah, told them as soon as I was informed about his location."

"What about Alan and Gordon?"

"No, they don't know. Gordon suspects something but hasn't asked and has kept Alan occupied. Alan just thinks Scott made an impromptu trip home."

"Dad, can you promise me you won't keep things like this from us anymore. You're business is getting big, there will be people that hate you for succeeding, or want you to fail cause you're taking business from them. You got to let us know and we can help."

"Virgil, it's my job to protect you."

"And it's our job to help you."

His father paused for a moment before sighing. "Alright, I think I can do that. Hopefully it won't happen, but if it does, you will know."

"Dad." Scott poked his head into the doorway. "Sheriff Landon and Mr. Ambrose are here."

Their father stood and squeezed Virgil's shoulder as he passed to head out of his office.

"Jeff." Sheriff Landon was the same age as their father, and an old friend.

"George. I hope you've brought us some good news." Their father reached out and shook their hands. "Thanks again for keeping an eye on Virgil, Don."

"It was my pleasure, Jeff. You really should make it to one of his shows, it really is something."

"I will next year, I promise."

"I take it your father's brought you up to speed." The sheriff turned to Virgil who was standing behind his father.

"We were just discussing it. Have you found him?"

"We did, thanks to Don."

"I noticed the car when the busses pulled into the school. Just sitting there in the dark. Told you to go straight home, though you didn't quite do that."

"I had to help unload the trailer."

"Right, I know." Don shook his head. "Anyways. I saw the car so I wandered over and knocked on the window."

"What did he do?" Virgil could see his father tense a little.

"He jumped and reached for the gun laying in the passenger seat, but hesitated. He did roll down his window and we had a little chat."

"About what?"

"Everything. His son, what he had planned to do. He's a good man who lost himself in grief. I'm sure you can understand that, Jeff."

"All, too well." Virgil reached up and squeezed his father's shoulder from behind.

"I told him about Lucy. Hope you don't mind."

"What did he do?" Scott had been quietly listening, but stepped up next to them.

"He cried. Once he calmed down a little he handed over the gun and I drove him to George's office while Nick followed in the truck."

"We'll take him to Wichita in the morning. There will be charges against him by the city, however it is still up to you if you want to add additional charges."

Virgil watched as his father paused to think, but only took a moment before he shook his head.

"No. I don't want to press charges."

"Jeff, he threatened to kill Virgil." The sheriff frowned a little.

"Yes, but he didn't. He needs help and throwing him in jail isn't going to provide that."

"How about an ultimatum then?"

"What are you thinking?"

"If he agrees to get help, go to therapy that is, no charges and no jail time. But if he doesn't you'll hit him with everything. You're right, he does need help, but he also needs the motivation to seek it."

"I don't know."

"Dad, I think you should do it." Virgil stepped aside so that Scott would slip by him and stand next to their father. "You had a very similar ultimatum didn't you? Grandma threatened to take us away if you didn't straighten up and start being a father again."

Virgil blinked and looked over at John who had just been silently listening. He shook his head slightly, he hadn't known either.

"Scott, how did you—"

"I listened. I had my ear to that door more than you'd like to know." Scott lifted his hand to stop his father from getting off the topic. "This guy needs help and this might be his only chance in getting it."

"Alright." Their father sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little. "We'll do what you suggested then George."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Thank you both for stopping by and catching us up on everything. We'll all sleep easier tonight." Jeff reached out and took both of the men's hands shaking them firmly again.

"It was no problem. You lot take care and listen to your father next time." Sheriff Landon eyed Virgil who nodded solemnly. And then the two guests were gone.

"I think I'm going to head to bed." Virgil let out a large yawn and stretched a bit. "It's been a long day and an exhausting night."

"I'd say that's a good idea, for all of us."

"I think we should go out for lunch tomorrow to celebrate the band's win." John had tucked his book under his arm as he stood.

"Win? You won? First place?" His father's face was blank as he watched Virgil.

"Yeah, first place." Virgil couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I'll be. You'll have to get me a copy of your show so I can see." His father had broken out into a smile and pulled him into another tight hug. "Alright, celebratory lunch tomorrow before Scott has to go back to school."

"Way to go Virgil." Scott gave him a quick hug as well as they made their way up the stairs.

Virgil followed Scott while John brought up the rear. Scott opened the door to his room quietly, but paused in the doorway.

"Alan's not in his bed."

"He's probably sleeping with Gordon." John walked past him, turning the light on as did. "He's been doing that since you went off to school."

"Oh." Scott looked a little disappointed as he followed John into their room.

Virgil smiled a little as he opened his door expecting to see Alan curled up with Gordon, but the bed at the far end of the room was empty. He frowned a little and glanced around.

His two youngest brothers were curled up in a bed, but not Gordon's, his own. He smiled again as he leaned over and shook Gordon awake. "Hey, what's the deal?"

Gordon moaned a little and rubbed his eyes. "Virgil?"

"Who else would it be? What are you doing in my bed?"

"Alan wouldn't go to sleep unless he was here." Gordon reached over and shook the other blond.

"Don't wake him."

"Nah, he'll be happy to see you. He was worried." Gordon shook him again. "Alan, wake up."

"Worried? What for?"

"We're not idiots, Virg. We knew something was going on, and you weren't where you were supposed to be."

"And where was I supposed to be?"

"Duh, Here. But you weren't here. Where were you?"

"Band contest."

"That doesn't make sense. Why was everyone so upset then?" Gordon once again shook his little brother. "Alan, Virgil's home."

"Virgil?" Alan popped up at the name and blinked owlishly in the darkness. When he caught sight of his older brother he leapt from the bed and had his arms around his neck hugging him tightly.

"Hey, shhh, don't worry. I'm fine."

"We thought something had happened to you." Alan buried his face in Virgil's neck, a small sob escaping as he clung tighter.

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

"But everyone was so worried about you. I tried to act like I didn't know, but I was so worried."

Virgil couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Well, you succeeded. They all thought you were clueless to their worries. But still, I'm fine and everything has been taken care of."

"But what happened, Virg? Why was everyone so freaked out?"

Virgil looked his brother over for a moment before answering him. Gordon was old enough, he thought. Alan was still young, but he was sure nothing less than the truth would satisfy the two. "There was this guy that was mad at Dad. He thought he'd get revenge by hurting me instead."

"That's stupid." Alan finally pulled himself away and frowned at Virgil. "Why would anyone hate Dad?"

"It's complicated, and not mine to give you details. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Dad. Tomorrow." Alan was just about to jump off the bed, but Virgil caught him before he could. "It's time for bed. You going to sleep with Gordon?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Sure. Burrow yourself back down."

Alan flopped down onto the bed and crawled back under the blankets.

Virgil glanced over at Gordon who was looking out of the window. "Scoot over squid. Make room for me."

Gordon's head swung around with a blank look for a moment, but then he broke out into a smile as he scooted back into the blankets as well.

"The bed's starting to get a little small for this kind of thing." Virgil joked as he quickly stripped and pulled on his sleeping pants. However, he didn't complain, he would never say no if his brother's wanted to sleep with him. Though he did have to admit, it would start to get a little weird if they still wanted to do it once they were all adults.


	9. Movement IX: Proposta

Virgil knocked on the door to his father's office. It was no longer dread he felt when he did this, but more duty. After the death threat on his family, he took it upon himself to make sure his father didn't hide something like that again. He sat and talked to his father at least once a month. He would listen to how the company was growing, and make sure his father was up to date with what was going on with him and his brothers. 

On this day there were several things Virgil needed to talk to his father about, so he knocked again a little more firmly. There was still no answer so he cracked the door open and poked his head through.

His father was on a call, talking to a head that was floating above the desk. He didn't seem to notice Virgil so he shut the door behind him and quietly made his way over to the chair in front of his father's desk and sat down. 

His father glanced up at him, his brows drawn together and Virgil lifted his wrist and tapped at it. It was time for their appointment. At first Virgil had tried to catch his father when he was free, but that quickly proved almost impossible so he began making appointments with his secretary—in fact he had begun making appointments for his brothers as well. 

It wasn't that his father didn't care. He just got so engrossed with his projects that if it weren't for his watch going off to remind him of his next appointment, he'd get nothing else done. 

His father's eyes widened a bit and he glanced down at his watch, shook it, tapped it, and finally rolled his eyes. "Steve, I'm going to have to call you back. My next appointment is here." 

The hologram nodded and after a few seconds disappeared. 

"Watch dead again?" Virgil couldn't help the small smile on his face. 

"When are they going to improve battery life?" 

"Dad, it lasts you almost a month as it is." 

"Still, they had solar powered watches in the past, why can't they do that for these." 

"Because the solar cells in a basic watch is in the face, with smart watches like that there isn't room in the face for the solar cells because the digital display takes up all the room. And with the consumer want of sleeker styles and larger screens no one has bothered to add additional room for a solar cell." 

His father blinked at him. "Why do you know that?" 

"Because I was going to buy you one if it existed." Virgil laughed a little and leaned back in the chair. "So, how is the company going?" 

"Not too bad. Steve's running the office in San Fransisco now. Says everything over there is running smoothly. Also just hired his replacement for the Wichita office last week, her names Mary. Steve and I were just talking about possibly having me visit both New York and San Fransisco soon." 

Virgil couldn't help but be proud of his father. It had taken him nine years to get the company to where it was. It was a slow start—having only opened his first office four years ago—but he now had three buildings with their name on it. New York, Wichita, and San Fransisco. They were each small buildings, but he already had plans to expand the New York office and possibly the San Fransisco one as well. Of course his connections with NASA helped—he had gotten a contract from the space agency and that was what put Tracy Industries on the map. 

"Also I'm working with Brains and may be putting in a bid for a project the GDF want done." 

"I'd really like to meet this Brains one day. It sounds like he's been able to pull off some miracles." 

"That he has. I'm lucky I was able to snag him away from Fischler. Not so sure about that guy, he has some good ideas but he's young and brash. There's just something about him that rubbed me the wrong way." 

"Well, you have him and that's what matters." Virgil adjusted himself in the chair a little. It was an old wooden one, with an even older seat cushion tied to it. "If you can plan your visit to New York for this next week, that would work perfectly for John." 

His father frowned as he leaned back in his own chair, squeaking as he did. "Why's that?" 

Virgil couldn't help but let out a sigh, it wasn't on his calendar so of course he had forgotten. "John's going for his orientation at MIT this week. You thought you'd be too busy so Grandma is packing her bags to go with him. He'd love it if you would go instead." 

"Is that this week?" 

"It sure is." 

"Damn that came fast." He reached up and scratched the bit of scruff on his chin. 

"The sessions are in the morning, and it's only an hours flight to New York, plus a little bit of driving. Maybe two hours at most from doorstep to doorstep." 

"You've never driven in New York." 

"I've never been to New York."  

"We need to fix that. They have some great museums, and of course there's broadway."

"I'd love to, but right now it's John's moment. He's been talking to his advising teacher and has been told that he could possibly meet a certain astronaut he and Alan are big fans of." 

"Him? He wants to meet him? Has a bit of an ego last I heard." 

"Yep, he's on campus this week for some reason. Though I'm sure the opportunity to introduce his father, the _first_ man on Mars, is quite high on his list." 

His father let out a good chuckle at that. "Well, who am I to deny him that." He reached forward and punched a button on his desk. "Steve, you still there?" 

The hologram flickered a moment and then the man's head reappeared. "Yes, sir. Probably for the next hour. What do you need?" 

"Sorry to add on to your work, but we need to move my schedule around. I think I'll go and visit New York this week. It's also John's week for orientation at MIT. I was hinted that it would be nice if I could go." He gave Virgil a quick wink. 

"Of course sir, most of your meetings can be moved around and done remotely. Only there is one gentleman that was insisting for a face to face interview." 

"Explain the situation to him. If he doesn't understand the importance of family, then I'm not interested in what he has to say." 

"Very well, Mr. Tracy. I will get your new schedule uploaded by morning." 

The hologram flickered out and his father leaned forward on the desk. "Alright, who's next." 

"You missed Gordon's meet last week." 

His father slowly lowered his head into his hands. "How mad is he?" 

"Don't be surprised if he doesn't talk to you for the next couple of weeks." Virgil leaned back a little and crossed his arms. "Let him cool off, by his next competition he'll have forgotten it. I told him an emergency came up that you couldn't ignore." 

"Be careful saying that. If he hears that excuse too much it won't work anymore." 

"I know, which is why that is the first and last time I'll use it. I won't cover for you again." 

"You shouldn't have to cover for me at all." 

"This was the first major competition you've missed. You had to have been doing something big to have lost track of time that badly.Right?" 

"Hmm, that was Wednesday and Thursday, right? Yeah, Brains and I had been working on some plans for close to thirty-six hours."

"They better have been something big." 

"If they come out like I'd like them to it's gonna change the world." 

Virgil started to laugh, that was his father's response to all of the projects his company was working on, but something in the way his father was looking at him made him stop and frown. "Anyways, he's got the Junior World Cup in October, I'll send a note off to Steve so he can make sure it's in your calendar. Miss this one and Gordon might disown you." 

"Understood. How did he do?" 

"Consistently got second and third place in all his races. Considering his competition is mainly seventeen and eighteen year olds, I'd say he's doing pretty good." 

"Do you think he's going to make it to the next Olympics? Or the one after?"  

"That's hard to say. If he keeps improving like he is, then he'll be going in 2056 for sure. John even did the math and the stats look promising." 

"If Gordon says he going to do it, he probably will. I learned early on not to underestimate that kid." 

"Speaking of kids, Alan." 

"What's up with Alan?" 

"With John heading to MIT this year, he's going to be bored and lonely. Gordon's gone all the time as it is, and with Band I'm not home much either." 

"That is true. I'm assuming you already have an idea of what we can do about this." 

"Flying. He wants to fly like Scott and he's old enough to start learning."

"Not a bad idea. I'll call the airfield and see if Bill is still giving less—"

"No, Dad. I mean for you to give him lessons. You went to all of Scott's sporting events, You've started going to my band performances, and you go to Gordon's meets. You haven't done a whole lot with Alan."

"Well, he's not in any sports yet—"

"That doesn't matter. For me and John it was just Scott that got the attention. Now it's all of us, except Alan." 

His father nodded a little. "In your note to Steve, make sure I take some time off on Saturdays to teach him how to fly." 

"He's going to be excited." 

"Is there anything else?" 

"One last thing. Me." 

"You? It's summer, you don't have any performances—do you?" 

Virgil couldn't help but laugh. "No, I don't. But I do have a deadline and I'd like for you to look over something for me." Virgil reached down and picked up a manilla envelope he had laid on the floor next to him when he had first sat down. He leaned over and slid it onto the desk within his father's reach. 

His father raised an eyebrow as he reached for it and flipped open the flap, pulling out the small stack of papers contained within. He thumbed through, reading through them as he did, and when he was done he laid them down gently and leveled a slightly confused gaze at Virgil. "Denver School of Advanced Technology?" 

"It's a newer school, but it's quickly proving to be just as good as MIT or CalTech." 

"And it offers a good program for Acoustical Engineering?"

"I don't know. That's not what I'm gonna go for." 

His father's eyebrows furrowed even more."I thought you wanted to do something with music?" 

"I did. I thought I did. But being in the band, and being busy with it and all—it was great, wouldn't do it any different—but I realized I didn't want music to be my career. I want it to be what I come home to after a busy day. I want it to be what I use to relax." 

"Then what are you going to do?" 

"I was thinking mechanical engineering." 

"Mechanical? Why that?" 

"Is there something wrong with me wanting to be a mechanical engineer?" Virgil frowned, he thought his father would be overjoyed at the news, but instead he seemed disappointed. 

"I thought you were going to stick to music and—well, you know how much I tried to push you to go into the sciences. But when you started high school, and laid everything out I realized that while I was your father, I had very little say in your life choices. I could suggest and recommend till I was blue in the face, but you would do what you wanted in the end, so I guess I had come to terms with you wanting to do something with music. But now—" His father leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. "Well isn't this something. I can convince someone to loan me several million dollars on a gamble, but I can't even tell my son that I'd be proud of him no matter what he did." 

"I think you just did." Virgil smiled at his father. 

His father blinked a little and then smiled back. "I guess I just did. But why mechanical engineering specifically. Usually people go in with several options and feel it out as they go through school." 

Virgil's smile faded a little as he pushed himself up out of the chair and walked over to a potted plant in the far corner of the small office. The plant was fake and covered with dust, but he ignored it and reached behind the plant for the roll of blueprints that lay in the corner. He brought it back over to his father's desk and laid it down gently. 

"How did you know that was there?" 

"I found it a couple of years ago." Virgil shrugged. They generally weren't allowed in their father's office when he was gone, so he wasn't sure if he'd get in trouble or not. However there was no other way of explaining his reason. 

His father reached out and held down one end of it and unrolled the stack of paper onto his desk. It would have taken up the entire top if he hadn't had other things around him. However, it was open enough that both of them could see what the blueprints were of. 

"That was Grandpa's plane. The one that killed them." 

"It is." 

"I figured you had it, trying to figure out what had happened." 

"I went over this with a fine toothed comb but I couldn't find anything wrong with its design. My father was a good pilot, but he was getting on in age. He knew he'd have to stop flying at some point. But it wasn't him either. They came back and said it was fatigue on one of the flaps, he lost control of it and—" He shrugged a little. 

"Yeah, you left the accident report between the pages. After I read it, I started studying the plane, looking to see just which part it was." 

"You studied it?" 

"Every time you were gone, I snuck in and looked it over. Researched the different parts trying to figure out what they did. I knew you hadn't been looking at it recently cause you never said anything about the marks I was leaving." Virgil slowly reached over and pointed out some of the math he had done in the margins. 

His father didn't say anything, but gently touched Virgil's markings. "I don't want you to do this if you think it's going to help you understand why, cause I can tell you—"

"I'm not. Mom and Grandpa are dead. There is nothing we can do to change it. I want to help you though. Your company, you're trying to improve things so that accidents like this don't happen—so that no one else has to lose a mother, a father, or a wife. I want to help. I want to go to Denver, learn all I can about mechanical engineering, and come and work for you when I'm done." 

His father let go of the blueprints and they snapped back into their roll. "Is that so? You want to become an engineer so you can help others?" 

"Yes." 

"Alright then. You best study hard, I won't go easy on you just because you're my son." 

"I'd be disappointed if you did." Virgil tried to hide his smile, tried to be serious, but his father's smile wouldn't let him. 

"I'll look your application over for you then." 

"Don't forget now. I need to send it off by the end of the month." 

"I'll do it right now. If we're done that is." 

"We are. Thanks for talking to me." 

"Virgil, I meant it. I am proud of you." 

"I know." 

* * *

The rest of his senior year went along fairly calmly. He went to homecoming with a girl he liked, and took her out a few times over the next few months. However, when it came to prom she finally admitted that she had a crush on someone else. So, Virgil did what Virgil does. He helped her to ask them out to prom. He went to prom with some friends instead and still had a good time.

He headed off to Denver the next fall and took all his classes seriously. He made sure to email his father and ask him how things were going—just cause he wasn't there didn't mean he wasn't going to let things go—but found it difficult to get enough time to make it home for visits. He even had to skip Scott's graduation from the Air Force Academy because of his own finals—none of his teachers would let him take them early. He did join his family as soon as he could so they could celebrate together. 

Still it was mid May before Virgil was able to make it home for the summer. When he had turned sixteen he had chosen not to worry too much about driving and saved his money so that when he graduated from high school he could buy his own car. And it was with that car that he drove back south into Kansas for the summer. 

He had barely pulled into the drive when he spotted Alan sitting on the steps of the porch. He quickly looked up at the sound of the car and Virgil saw the grin spread across his face. 

"Hey, kiddo. Whatcha doing sitting out here?" Virgil pulled himself out of his car and leaned on the roof. 

"Trying to figure out something to do." Alan jumped to his feet and ran around the car, and ran right into Virgil holding him in a tight hug. 

"I take it you missed me?" Virgil squeezed him back and ruffled his hair. "Why so bored? You still have a couple weeks of school right? Where is everyone else?" Virgil glanced around the yard. The SUV sat unused next to the barn like always—Scott and John both choosing to fly back and forth to school, and Virgil had pulled up right next to their grandma's car. The only one missing was his father's. 

Alan pulled himself away from Virgil and kicked at some dirt. "Scott's been assigned to Las Vegas, so he's already there working, and John's not coming home this summer. Internship or something." 

"What about Gordon?" 

"They're about to leave for practice." 

"So you stay at home alone?" 

Alan shrugged a little. "It's not the first time. At first I thought it would be awesome, just ended up being boring." 

Virgil reached out and squeezed his shoulder before opening the back door and pulling out a couple of bags, throwing one to Alan to carry. "Well, you're stuck with me this summer. Hope you don't mind that." 

"Nah." Alan smiled again. 

There was a bang as the screen door slammed shut. Virgil looked up at the house and saw Gordon standing there, looking back into the house, with a duffle bag over his shoulder. "Grandma, hurry up. We're going to be late!" 

"How can we be late when you're his only student?" Grandma appeared at the door and froze when Virgil met eyes with her's. "Virgil!" She pushed the screen door open, practically pushing Gordon to the ground and hurried out to him. 

"Hi, Grandma." Virgil dropped the bag he was carrying and opened his arms for her incoming hug. 

She squeezed him tight and then let go and looked up at him. "You grew. Definitely taller than Gordon now." 

"Geez, thanks bro." 

"We always knew you were going to be the shorty of the group." Virgil laughed as he reached over and ruffled Gordon's head. 

"Alright, Grandma, we can catch up later. Practice, practice." 

"All you do is practice. Can't you put it off just once for family?" 

"Not with the Olympics within my reach." 

Their grandma could only sigh and shake her head a little. "We'll bring dinner home, so don't worry yourselves over it." 

Virgil nodded and waved, watching as they pulled out of the driveway and took off down the road. 

"Alright, that just leaves Dad. Where is he? It's Saturday, surely he's not off at one of his offices." 

"He's MIA like he is every weekend." 

This caused Virgil to quirk an eyebrow at his littlest brother. "MIA? Every weekend? For how long?"  

"Hmm, beginning of the year?" Alan picked up the bag again and led them into the house. "Said he had some kind of huge project with that brainy guy. 

"Brains. That's his name." 

"His name is Brains? What kind of name is that?" 

"Probably just a nick name. Anyways, has he said anything else? Like which office he's at?" 

"None of them. That's why he's MIA." 

"Did you try call—"

"Of course I did. I had a question for him and called Jerry, Steve, and Mary. They only knew that they'd be unable to reach him on the weekends." 

"Till when?" 

"Until further notice." 

Virgil had dropped his things just inside the door and led Alan into the kitchen reaching up to where their grandma tended to hide the cookies. He fished out four of them and handed Alan two. "What about your flying lessons?" 

Alan shrugged a little as he bit into his cookie. "Dad said he'll start up again once this project is done with. Meanwhile, Mr. Davis has been teaching me. He says I'm a natural." Alan beamed a little at that, but it seemed difficult for him to keep it up and it disappeared just as fast. 

"I could have told you that, and I haven't even seen you fly." Virgil ruffled his hair again but couldn't quite get the frown off his face. "Still that's not what we agreed to." 

"What are you talking about? It's okay. I don't mind." 

"Well, I do. Does Dad ever come home?" 

"Yeah, usually Mondays and Thursdays. Goes to one of his offices in the morning and then comes home and drops his laundry off. About the same on Thursdays, all day at the office, spends the night here and then disappears for the weekend." 

"Does he at least stay for dinner?" 

"Oh yea, Grandma makes sure of that." 

"What about Gordon's meets?" 

"Ah, you'll have to talk to Gordon about that, if he'll even say anything." 

Virgil shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth to keep himself from saying something bad. He chewed slowly as he thought. His dad hadn't mentioned any kind of project in his weekly emails. As for Alan's lessons and Gordon's meets, now that he thought about it, his dad had been a bit evasive on those subjects. 

His dad hadn't been lying to him, he just hadn't been telling him everything. True, he had never made his dad promise to tell him everything, Virgil just assumed that was the understanding. Still, he wasn't going to let this slide. 

"Virgil, don't..." 

Virgil blinked and looked down at Alan, he had been so deep in thought he hadn't heard his brother. "What?" 

"You're not gonna make a big deal out of this are you?" 

"You don't want me to?" Virgil sat down next to Alan and leaned on the back of the chair to listen to his brother. 

"I just, it's not a big deal. Really. He said he'd help me later, and that he would be there when I did my solo flight. I know he's busy, he's doing good stuff—whatever it is—I don't want to be the reason he doesn't really change the world." 

"Alan, the first step to changing the world is making sure those around you are part of that. Right now he's ignoring you and Gordon and that's not right." 

"I just..." 

Virgil frowned as he reached out and squeezed Alan's shoulder. "You just what?" 

"Nothing. It's nothing." 

"Alan, it's never nothing. What's wrong?" 

Alan wasn't looking at Virgil, but sighed and leaned his head in his hand as his elbow rested on the table. "Dad and Gordon were arguing the last time they were both here. About him missing another meet. It got pretty loud." 

"Ah." Virgil pulled Alan over into a hug. "Don't worry. Dad and I have had our bouts, but I think we've gotten each other figured out by now." 

"It's not just the yelling though. The silence is worse." 

Virgil hugged him a little tighter and planted a light kiss on the top of his head. "Trust me. I've known them both my whole life." 

Alan pulled away a little, but Virgil saw the small smile that had flickered on his lips. 

"Enough of this. I'm here now, and you're bored. What are we going to do?" 

"I just got Zombie Apocalypse X." Alan had a small smile on his face, a little bit of hope and a bit of doubt as well. 

"Well, we know who's going to win, but if that's what you want to do, let's go kill us some zombies." 

They played all weekend, with a few small bouts of piano playing to be fair—though that was Alan's idea, Virgil had been prepared to do only what he had wanted to do. 

When Monday came around—after they had sent Gordon and Alan off to school—Virgil went to work making a few phone calls. He found that his father was going to be in the Wichita office that day and arranged an appointment just after lunch with his father. He asked Mary not to tell his father who his one o'clock was, just to say it was an dissatisfied member of the board. 

His father had decided, as the company grew, that it would be impossible to be up to date in all aspects of running it and make firm educated decisions without some help. So he went searching and found a group of people who would serve on his board of directors. They were a varied bunch and the only ones in the company who could argue with his father, and make him listen. Virgil knew that by saying he was a board member his father would make sure his schedule would be clear and he would be there waiting on him. 

Virgil left the house and drove to Wichita so that he would be there in plenty of time. He arrived about a half an hour early and confirmed with Mary that his father had taken lunch in his office because of his important meeting. 

"Mr. Tracy, the board member is hear early. Would you like to see them now?" She smiled a little, excited about being in on the little deception. 

"Yes, yes. Send them in and hold my calls." His father's voice was a little rough, and Virgil heard him clear it as he hung up. 

"I hope you get things settled, Virgil. He's been in a right mood since arguing with your brother." 

"I hope so too." Virgil smiled back at Mary and took in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and made his way into is father's office. 

His father had stood and was halfway around his desk when he realized who Virgil really was. His mouth dropped open a little and his eyebrows scrunched together like Scott's did when he was confused. 

Virgil couldn't help but smirk at that. 

"I don't understand. Mary said—"

"That it was a board member. She just didn't say what board." 

"I only have one." 

"Two. Company and family. And I must say the family board of directors is not in the best of shape at the moment." 

"I see. So you've come to talk to me. Is that it?" His father dropped back down into his chair and touched a button on his desk. "Mary." It was silent. "Mary." 

"She's not going to answer." 

"I could have her fired for insubordination." 

"But you won't." 

"And why not?" 

"Because she's doing exactly what you wanted her to do when you hired her. She's doing what you hoped all of your employees would do when you hired them. You made sure every single one of them and your board of directors knew how important family was, so that you could tend to your own family when needed without argument. And right now, you need to tend to your family." 

His father watched him for a moment, and then let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair andlooked down. "I know, I've messed up, again." 

Virgil let out his breath. He had been afraid that his father had gotten so invested in his work that he was ignoring everything else. He was glad to see that wasn't the case. "Then why don't you fix it." 

"It's not that easy." 

Virgil sat down in the chair in front of his father's desk—the nice one he kept just for the board members. "Talk. You haven't been telling me everything in our e-mails, so tell me now. What has been going on? Alan told me how you've been MIA every weekend since the beginning of the year and that you've missed several of Gordon's meets. Not to mention the fight you two had, though he didn't give me any details." 

"You pretty much know it then. I'm working on a secret project." He held up his hand to stop Virgil from talking. "I'm not ready to tell you quite yet. It is amazing though. I—no, no, can't say anything." 

Virgil couldn't help but smile. He could see just how excited his father was about his project of his. Honestly, he hadn't seem him this excited in a very long time. Whatever it was, it really was big. "Any idea when you're going to tell me?" 

"How's school?" 

"School's fine." 

"GPA?" 

"4.0"

"Good. Good." 

"Dad?" 

"Keep working. We still have some kinks to figure out. When we've got it completely done, I'll let you all in on it." 

"Good, and until then?" 

"Until then?" His father blinked a few times, and then slumped back in his chair, all his excitement gone. "Right. That." 

"Yes. That." Virgil crossed his arms. "You're apparently not on speaking terms with Gordon and you're not giving Alan his flying lessons." 

"Alan said he was okay with taking them from Bill." 

"What he says isn't always what he means. He just doesn't want to argue with you. He doesn't like fighting at all." 

His father froze for a moment and then took in a deep breath and let it out. "Oh, Crap."

"Exactly. So first things first. Why did you miss Gordon's meets?"  

"When I'm on the—when I'm away my calendar doesn't sync. So, I get so involved with what I'm doing that I forget and my watch doesn't remind me." 

"Where the heck—"

"While Gordon may not be talking to me, I have already solved that issue on my side at least." His father stood and walked to the corner where some bags sat. He reached into one and pulled out a small leather bound book. "Steve got it for me when he found out about Gordon. Whoever I see last, just before I take off for home and then off to—well, you know. They make sure everything in the next two weeks is up to date and I look at it often when I'm gone." 

He flipped it open and held it out for Virgil to look at. "Gordon has a meet this next weekend. I'm not going to—to see Brains. I'm going to the meet, whether he wants me there or not." He sighed and sat back down in his chair. "Now if he'll talk to me, that's another question altogether." 

Virgil took the schedule book and flipped through it a bit. It seemed like the best idea, but it still wouldn't keep him from forgetting if he was sidetracked with whatever it was he was doing. "What did you fight about?" 

His father sighed a little and rubbed his temples. "The same. Says I don't care about him because he's not into flying or space and stuff like that. Says that I'm disappointed in him cause he doesn't make straight As like the rest of you, and that I don't believe he'll make it to the Olympics and he should just give up." 

"Is he right?" 

"No!" His father's answer was immediate and he even brought his palm down on the desk with a slap. But it did take him a minute or two to follow it up. "At least not all of it. No, I shouldn't even say that, but flying and space is in my blood, always has been. I can't help but get excited when my sons show an interest in it. Swimming... It's fun, but I just don't see why it excites him so." 

"Yet it does." 

"That it does." His father let out his breath through his teeth as he settled back in his seat again. "And I've let him pursue it because he loves it so. I'll admit, when he first said he wanted to try for the Olympics I laughed, thought it was just one of those dreams kids have. They want to be everything under the sun as they grow up." 

Virgil remained quiet, letting his father speak. No longer would he be the meek kid who did everything his father asked, but he was a patient listener so he let his father talk. 

"But now, have you see Gordon recently? I mean swimming? You should go to the meet this weekend. He is something else. People are comparing him to Phelps and Ledecky. He's been winning his heats by a second or two. Has even broken quite a few Jr US records. I think this year, he'll break the US record in the butterfly. That's his main stroke you know. He decided last year that was the one he was going to swim at the Olympics, though he'll probably be in a relay as well." 

"You sound quite proud of him." 

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" 

"He doesn't think you are. Have you told him?" 

His father had his mouth open, but his eyes were wide and he just slowly closed it and leaned his head into one hand.  

"You mentioned Gordon's grades as well?" 

"They're not bad, Bs all around, but he could do better. I even showed him how some of the swimmers he idolizes were still able to get straight As while they swam. He didn't seem too impressed by it."

"Gordon's never been as excited for school as the rest of us. Bs are his normal." 

"But I want him to do good. Get good grades, go to a good school. I hoped that showing him his roll models all had good grades would motivate him. Did the opposite." 

"Does that honestly surprise you? Anytime you've tried to steer him down a path he sticks up his nose and goes the other way. That's who he is. He's a free spirit and no one is going to tell him what to do with his life." 

His father let out another sigh, but didn't argue. "I want him to go to collage though, even if—even if he makes swimming his life. He needs to expand his mind as well." 

"I agree, but that has to be something that he decides to do. You said it to me a couple of years ago, you can't force us down a path, we're going to do what we want to do, regardless of what you want." 

His father smiled a little as he met eyes with Virgil. "That's the same thing Scott told me." 

"Scott knows?" 

"About Gordon, yes." 

"But not about you disappearing on the weekends." 

"Ha, if he knew he'd have his whole squadron hunting me down." 

"That's probably true. Alright, this weekend we'll both talk to Gordon. Now, how about Alan?" 

"There is honestly nothing left for me to teach him. He could fly solo now if he were old enough." 

"So you don't think he's worth your time?" 

"What? Why would you say something like that?" His father had sat up in his chair, his eyebrows scrunched together again. 

"Because that's what it sounds like. You have nothing else to teach him so someone else can take over while you work on your secret project." 

"He said he didn't care." 

"He does." 

"So it seems." 

"Has he told you about the racing?" Virgil watched his father closely. He knew Alan hadn't told him because he had said he hadn't. Didn't want to bother him with it. 

"Racing? Racing what?" 

"Planes of course." 

"Where did he get a silly idea like that?" 

"Mr. Davis. His son does race planes you know." 

"Ah, but he's too young." 

"He just needs his license and he'll get that at sixteen. That's only three years away and you know he won't have an issue in getting it."

"And if I tell him I don't want him to—"

"He won't. He won't be happy, but he won't." 

His father leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Why are my children so stubborn?" 

"Might want to look in the mirror." 

His father cocked an eyebrow at him, and Virgil knew he had stepped a bit close to the line. 

"Sorry, sir." 

"No, I get what you mean. Well, looks like Tracy Industries is going be working on racing planes. If my son is going to be using them, I'm going to make sure they are the safest damn things out there." 

Virgil could only smile at that. "And what about his lessons now?" 

"With my trips to—with my secret project, I can't take a lot of time off to take him up more than once a week." 

"Once a week works. You are busy, we all understand that, but we want to feel that we are more important than TI." 

"Alright. Alright. Ah, you're not going to tell Scott about my disappearing are you?" 

Virgil watched him for a moment, but shook his head. "There's no reason he needs to know, as long as you don't forget about the rest of us again." 

"Cross my heart." His father stood and walked around the desk to stand next to him. "Thank you. This old man needs a bit of a kick in the ass on occasion." 

"It's my pleasure to do it as well." Virgil stood and hugged his father as he laughed at Virgil's remark. "How soon can you be home tonight?" 

"I've got some paperwork and one more meeting today. So, I should be home for dinner." 

"I'll let Grandma know." 

"If she's taking requests, I'd love some of her meatloaf." 

Virgil couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at that. "How do you even eat the stuff? The outside is burnt half the time." 

"That's what the ketchup is for!" His father laughed again and patted Virgil on the back. 

* * *

Gordon and his father made up that next weekend and things seemed to settle back into normality.

Virgil studied hard during his second year as well, once again finding it hard to make it home—though he almost walked out of a lecture when Alan sent a group message to all his brothers that his father had been hiding in his office all week drinking Whiskey and not even going to work. Scott was faster though, and replied that he'd be there that evening. Virgil decided to let his eldest brother take care of it, but demanded answers later. 

Turned out that his father's secret project had been destroyed and it had hit him hard. Scott didn't give him any details, but he had been able to talk his father into trying again. 

Life moved on, and Virgil found himself making a quick trip home to say good-bye to Scott. He was being deployed to the Middle East, though he didn't think he'd get involved in any type of conflict, he would be there for thirty long months with no idea if he'd get any leave to come home to visit. It as a sad weekend, but he knew Scott was doing what he had always wanted to do, so he was happy for him anyways. 

That summer he had the joy of watching Gordon speed through the water and break the world record in the 100 butterfly, earning him a place on the Olympic team. The family—minus Scott of course—made the trip to China for the event and watched as Gordon not only participated in the games, but won a Gold medal as well. He had been up for three medals, his relay team was just a hundredth of a second away from winning the bronze medal, and because of a false start in the 200 butterfly, he had been disqualified. 

Virgil's third year of college was quiet, but the summer after was full of events, but happy and sad. John joined NASA as soon as he had graduated from MIT. He had started some research that NASA had homed in on and decided that they wanted him up in the World Wide Space Station to continue his work, so they had green-lighted his application, even though he was still missing a few requirements, not to mention experience. He would not go up right away though, they mandated that he finish up his Masters as well as some additional training. 

The tension between Gordon and their father finally caught fire that summer as well. Virgil had been in the house when it had happened and sat frozen next to Alan who had started crying at the argument that had broken out between the two. In the end, Gordon ran out of the house, not even saying anything to them as he did, and the next thing Virgil knew he had signed up for WASP and was soon sent to study under the sea for a year. 

Virgil graduated from DSAT after four years of study, and a summer internship at his father's company. He applied for a job at Tracy Industries expecting to be given an entry position—he didn't want any special treatment just because he was a Tracy, he wanted to earn respect though his work, not his name. 

However, when he received a call just before finals offering him a job, it wasn't the job he had applied for. It was a special position, assistant engineer in the special projects department. Annoyed, he thanked the messenger and turned around and called his father. 

"What is the meaning of this? I told you I wanted to work up through the company. I don't want to be the CEO's son." 

"Do you want to help people?" 

This caught Virgil off guard and it took a moment for him to respond. "Y-yes, of course." 

"Are you willing to dedicate your life to it?" 

"That's the whole reason for becoming an engineer, you know that." 

"Good. I told you a few years ago that I'd tell you about my secret project when I had the kinks worked out of it. Well, it took a bit longer than I expected, but I want to show you. If you want to be part of it, you can. If you don't, you'll get that entry level position you want." 

"When will I find out what it is?" 

"After graduation. Go ahead and sign the paperwork you're sent. It's got the condition in it, so no issues should you change your mind." 

"Are you going to give me any clue?"  

"Just a couple more weeks and you will know everything." 

The line went silent and Virgil just stood in the middle of his apartment looking at the phone unsure what to even think. 

Their father had opened the San Fransisco office the same year Virgil had become a senior in high school. Since that time his father spent less time at home and more time there—even to the point that he lived in an apartment in the city during the week. So it wasn't entirely odd that when Virgil got the details about his first day at work, he was told to report to that office. What was strange was that the details told him to dress ruggedly. 

Virgil wasn't quite sure what that meant, so he wore a pair of jeans and button down shirt, something that looked nice, but wouldn't hurt to get dirty. 

Virgil stood in front of the building that was thirty stories tall. His father rented the top half of it, though Virgil was sure it wouldn't take him long to own the entire thing. He looked around and took note that the symphony hall was barely a block down the street—if he could get an apartment nearby he could catch an evening show after work. 

He smiled a bit as he ducked into the building, eager to find out what his father was up to. There were two main elevators that serviced the building—one for the lower half and one for the upper. Virgil headed for the latter and showed his ID to the security guard that stood next to the lift. 

The guard scanned his ID and nodded when a green check appeared on it and hit the button to call the elevator. "Your Mr. Tracy's three o'clock appointment?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Alright, I'll let Steve know you're on your way up, Mr.—" He glanced down at Virgil's ID again and frowned. "Tracy. Huh, what a coincidence." 

"Not really. He is my father after all." 

"The guard's eyes widened as he quickly handed the ID back. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy, I didn't know." 

Virgil couldn't help but laugh at that. "It's alright, and really, my dad is Mr. Tracy. Not me." 

The guard laughed as well, agreeing to the sentiment as he stepped into the elevator, swiped his badge, and pushed the button for the top floor before stepping out. 

Virgil watched as the floor numbers counted up, quietly counting along with it until it hit thirty. With a ping the doors opened to a bright open reception room. He walked over to the sold desk and smiled at Steve who sat behind it. 

Steve had glanced up when the elevator had opened but looked back down to finish something before he stood and held his hand out to Virgil. "Virgil Tracy. It's about time I get to meet you in person." 

Virgil laughed as he reached out and took the hand. "Hard to believe, isn't it." 

"Well, I was only in Wichita for a couple of year and this is your first trip to San Fransisco, isn't it?" 

Virgil withdrew his hand and rocked back on his heels a little. "It is. I'm excited to see what this is all about." 

"He sure seemed excited as well. Go on in, he just got off a call, so he'll be free." 

"Thanks." Virgil smiled again and turned toward the large double door and walked through.  

The office was massive. It took up the entire top floor—well, three-quarters of it at least, the reception area took up some room on its own. Light filtered in through the three walls of windows that surrounded his father who sat at his desk looking down at something. There was a translucent wall that separated his father's office space from a meeting room to Virgil's left—which he glanced into and saw that it was decorated just as the office space he stood in. 

That being very simplistic. A lot of wood and metal—what color there was were muted yellows, greens, and reds. There was shelving along the non-window wall he had walked through, covered with pictures of himself, his brothers, grandmother, and even a few of his mother and grandfather. 

Virgil reached up and lightly touched the frame of one of the pictures—it was his mother and father, young, possibly even before they were married. His father had the traditional military haircut but his mother's hair was long and flying everywhere by some wind caught frozen in time. His father was standing behind her, holding her close and kissing her on the cheek while she was reaching out toward the camera—no, she was holding the camera to take the picture. 

"You've never seen that picture have you?" 

Virgil jumped and turned to face his father. "No, I haven't. How come?" 

"I always kept it on my phone so I could look at her whenever I wanted." He stood and turned to look out the window behind him. "When I first came here to check out the building, I knew she would have loved the view, so I printed the picture out so she could always be looking at it." He chuckled a little before he turned back toward Virgil and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. "It's silly I know." He sat down in his own seat and seemed ready to get to business. "So, you finally made it." 

"What do you mean?" 

His father chuckled a little as he reached over and turned his holo-emitter around so that Virgil could see the schedule that was displayed. "Make a note of when the appointment was first entered." 

Virgil leaned forward and looked at what his father motioned to. There it was, his name on this date and time, but it had been entered—"Five years ago?" 

"Not long after you showed me your college applications." 

"You were sure I would stick with it?" 

"You work hard no matter what you do. I knew if you had decided to do the mechanical engineering you were going to be one that I couldn't afford to let slip through my fingers." 

Virgil smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Alright then. I'm here. What is this special position all about?" 

"Well, I had meant to tell you about my secret project a bit earlier than this, thought it'd be good motivation—not that you needed it. But as you know it didn't work out as planned." His father leaned back in his chair and seemed to be watching Virgil, to see how he would react. 

Virgil had his eyebrows scrunched together trying to figure out if his father was talking in riddles or just being vague on purpose. "Right, it failed, didn't it?"

"No, no. It was a success, but I was forced to abort it. As you know, not one of my best moments. However, after talking to Scott—kind of had to let him in on the secret—I decided to start again from scratch and go at it from a different angel." 

"So Scott knows? What about the others?" 

"John, I was thinking of telling him after his first trip to space. Alan after he's been in college a little, see what direction he's going to go." 

"And Gordon?" Virgil knew it was a risk saying his name. It wasn't that his father would blow up, but it was a wound that was still healing. 

"I almost told him, but he ran out before I could. If he ever talks to me again, I might. Just have to see what happens." 

They were both quiet for a moment, the memory of the fight still clear in Virgil's mind. He shook his head though to rid it of the thought, they would deal with that once Gordon was back on land again. "Right, so, what is this big secret of yours?" 

"I could tell you, but I'd rather show you. Are those the only kind of clothes you brought?" 

"What's wrong with them?" 

"Not near rugged enough." 

"I apologize, I didn't know we were going to go hiking in the amazon." 

"You're not too far off" His father's voice rumbled in a half laugh as he stood and picked up his phone, smoothly pocketing it in his breast pocket. "We'll have check you out of your hotel, and stop by my place. Did you drive?" 

"No, flew here and took a cab." Virgil watched as his father pack a few things into a small case. 

"My old plane? Isn't Alan using it?" 

"He's been using his new plane you got him for his birthday—Going to enter his first race this summer." 

"He's not waiting any is he? I'll have Steve arrange some storage for it. Alright, let's get going. We've got some shopping to do before we take off." 

"Shop—" His father was already halfway out the door. If he was going to get any answers he'd just have to follow along and see what happened.  

* * *

"How's this?" They were in the middle of a store, but not the type of store Virgil thought they'd be going to. Even with his father's cryptic explanation he assumed he was going to take him to some specialty store. Instead he was in the dressing area of the local sporting goods store.

"Oh, that's suits you pretty good." His father was sitting in a nearby chair with his phone in hand texting away. 

"Really? Don't I look a bit like some lumberjack?" 

His father laughed a bit. "I suppose, but trust me, you need the rugged clothes for where we're going." 

"And where is that?" 

"You'll see. Keep that gear on and get a little of everything then meet me in the car. We'll swing by my place before heading to the airport." 

Virgil was to the point that he didn't know whether to laugh or be worried about his father. Instead he just shook his head again as he gathered his things and headed to the checkout. 

They stopped by the hotel Virgil had checked into the day before and grabbed his things. They then went to his father's apartment where Virgil left his light shirts and thin jeans and packed his suitcase with the new heavy duty clothes he had just gotten while his father changed into his own rugged wear—his not being quite so lumberjack like. 

They were in his father's personal plane heading south west. This confused Virgil to no end. There was nothing to the south west but water. When he asked his father, he just smiled and said that he'd see. Well, it was a good four hours into the trip and the only thing he could see was the sea.  

It took them almost six hours to reach their destination. His father had to point it out on the horizon or Virgil would have missed it all together. It was a small craggy island and Virgil had to scratch his head at his father's decision to bring him there. 

They flew around the island a couple of times as his father explained the different features they could see from the sky. 

"First thing of course was the runway. It's extra wide so that cargo planes have room to land and take off. Once everything is finished we'll plant some palm trees or something. Then over there you can see the main structure. It's mostly done, I'm just working on finalizing some of the internal designs." 

"Is that a pool?"

"Yep, Olympic sized, just for Gordon." 

Virgil snapped his gaze away from the island and to his father. He wasn't smiling anymore, wasn't even looking at anything and Virgil wished he hadn't pointed the thing out. Ever since Gordon ran off and joined WASP he hadn't said a word to their father and Virgil wasn't sure when that would change. He hoped that the year at the bottom of the ocean would help him to see things more clearly, both of them. 

"How about you land and take me on a tour. I'm guessing this is more than you showing off your new vacation getaway." 

The smile returned to his father's face, but it was a strained one. "Ah, we've got a bit of a hike ahead of us." 

"A hike?" Virgil leaned back in his seat as his father banked to get into line with the runway. "The trail up to the main structure didn't look that bad." 

"It's not. The one up to where the roundhouse is hasn't been established yet though—all the materials were airlifted to the cliff side."

"Isn't there a way up from the inside?" 

"Yes, but we're not going into the round house, we need to be outside it." 

It took them over an hour to hike up the side of the mountain.The trail was rocky and covered in vegetation. Virgil was glad his father had insisted on the hiking boots, though he was still in the dark as to why they were taking such an overgrown path. 

By the time Virgil stumbled out from the tall growth to the bare cliff, his father was over by a round foundation with a circular structure above it. He could see an open stairway that emerged from the rocky floor and frowned at his father, pointing to it and back to the way they came. "W-why?"  

His father laughed and waved out toward the sea. "Because I wanted you to appreciate this, and have a better understanding of just how far from the main house we were." 

Virgil straightened up and looked out at the view before them. Nothing but blue as far as he could see. He looked down and the very top of the house's structure was still far below him, they had come quite a ways up. 

"Why was that so important? You wanted to show off your own personal apartment or something?" 

"Come over here and look at the foundation. Tell me what you see." 

Virgil was starting to get a little annoyed with his father but was growing more and more curious as to what he's been doing on this small island. 

Virgil was a mechanical engineer, but in his first couple of years he was forced to take classes that dealt with other forms of engineering, including civil engineering. So he started digging through his memory as he made his way over to the foundation and took a good look. 

It definitely wasn't a normal foundation, not even for anchoring it into the rock. For one it wasn't a material that was generally used as a foundation—concrete or wood—it was metal. Second it was disguised quite well, but there were seams in the foundation that didn't need to be there. 

"Is this—this is a door." Virgil stood in the middle of the foundation looking down. "Dad, why do you have a hatch under the round house?" 

"Get off of it and I'll show you." 

Virgil huffed a little but did as his father asked. As soon as he was next to him, his father reached up and touched the earpiece he was wearing. "Brains, open the silo." 

"Silo?" Virgil's voice was suddenly drowned out by a thunk and the low growl as the metal retracted before them. Hesitantly he edged forward and peered down the deep hole. "Dad." His voice echoed back at him and he turned to look at his father. "What the hell are you up to?" 

"Language." His father chided him. "This is why I brought you here. To show you what it was I was doing." 

"And what is that?" Virgil edged away from the gaping hole and moved back to where his father was. 

"Why did I start Tracy Industries?" 

"Cause you wanted to prevent accidents like Mom's and Grandpa's." 

"Correct. And yet the very first project that came to fruition ended in failure and a death." 

"Dad! That wasn't—" 

His father held up his hand stopping Virgil. "I know. You were right, I can't prevent all accidents from happening. But I can use Tracy Industries to help limit them." 

"Then what is—" Once again he was stopped by his father's hand and a smile. Virgil was usually a pretty patient guy, but this was causing him to reach his limit rather fast. 

"I can use the company to limit the number of accidents in everyday scenarios. For example altering private planes to help protect it's occupants should they have unexplained failures and crash. But what if said plane protected it's occupants, but crashed in a place that no normal rescue agency could get to, what would happen?" 

"Call the GDF." 

"True, but the GDF is a military outfit, not a rescuing one. If it were a large plane with a few dozen people they would probably try to find them. But a small one with one or two people, I'm afraid to say they wouldn't think it worth their time." His father shook his head sadly.

"And how do you know this?" 

"I discussed it in length with an old friend of mine. She's a colonel now in the GDF. Colonel Casey. She didn't like it any more than I did, but she's not in a position to change the higher ups minds." His father turned and faced the open sea before them. "We're also assuming that the victims in this scenario were able to contact someone for help. What if their radio had been busted? Mobile phones have gotten more powerful, but even they aren't going to be able to get a connection in the middle of the Himalayas, Amazon, or the Sahara." 

"Are you suggesting that you're going to start a rescue organization?"

"Kinda already have. Not full time, not yet. Been on a few rescues, saved some people, but had a bit of a set back couple of years ago. I think you can figure out when that was." His father flashed him a quick smile. "Had to ditch my ship in the ocean. That was when I told Scott everything. He convinced me to keep going, to try again." 

Virgil had so many questions, though none of them were asking why his father was doing this. That was the only thing that made sense. Still he didn't say anything, just listened as his father continued. 

"This silo was originally for her, the TV-21 that is. She was the fastest ship in the world—though only Casey knew of it officially. Now it's the home to a new ship. A bit smaller, but powerful. Able to reach orbit in a fraction of the time the GDF or the WSA can." 

"You built a rocket?" This was not what Virgil was expecting. Another plane yes, but a rocket? 

"Oh, We've built much more than that." His father turned and put an arm around Virgil's shoulders. "Come, let me show you what we've accomplished." 

"We?" 

"Me and Brains of course." 

"This is where you've been hiding Brains?" 

"This is the only place Brains has ever worked. It was the whole reason I ever hired him." 

Virgil stopped for a moment and thought back, when was it that his father first mentioned Brains to him, it had to have been almost ten years ago. "You are letting him take vacations right?" 

"I try, but he usually spends them here." His father laughed as he led him down the stairway Virgil had spotted when they had first arrived. "I did make him leave a few times, but usually its seen as a punishment rather than a reward. I tell you I didn't think anyone worked harder than John, but Brains is the only one I've seen do it." 

Virgil followed his father. Their footsteps echoed around them as they continued down the circular path sending them deeper and deeper into the mountain. They finally came to a stop at a rock wall and a door. 

"The roundhouse will be the guest suite, though I'm not planning on having too many guests. It's mainly just a cover for the exit to the silo." He opened the door and Virgil had to block his eyes from the bright light they walked into. 

They stood on a narrow walkway that went around the inside of the silo, and would eventually lead them down to ground level. But that wasn't what had caught Virgil's eye. In the middle of the silo, seemingly ready for launch was a bright red rocket. It didn't have any markings on it, just a flat red paint, but it was huge. 

"This is Three." 

"Three? Is there a One and a Two?" Virgil laughed a little, thing it was a joke. 

"We're working on them." 

That made him blink a little. "So you built Three first?" 

"The numbers represent the probability of them being used in a rescue." His father continued down the walkway and held up a single finger as he spoke. "One will be the first responder. She'll go on pretty much all the rescues." He then held up a second finger. "Two will be the workhorse of the fleet. She'll carry the equipment we'll need, but she can't always go until we find out from One what will be needed." A third finger was raised. "Three is for space rescues. More and more companies are using orbital transit. It's faster, but if something happened up there, it would take the GDF or the WSA almost an hour to exit the atmosphere—and that's assuming they have a rocket ready to launch. Three here can do it in twenty minutes and it's always on standby." 

They had reached the bottom of the final staircase and were standing next to the supports for one of the boosters. "Three ships." Virgil crossed his arms and nodded. This was way more than some dream, and he couldn't help but get a little excited about it. 

"Four." His father turned and flipped up his pinky finger. "Eventually we'll have a mini sub for underwater rescues. She'll be small enough that we can transport her in Two." 

"Four ships then. You've covered everything haven't you." 

"Five." His father held up his hand, all five fingers up and his grin at it's widest. "Five is a communications satellite. It's got the most powerful ears in the world. She will pick up that weak phone call for help." 

His father's words didn't slip by him. "It has. You mean Five is done?" Virgil stopped and looked up to the pinprick that was the silo's exit. "It's up there?" 

"Not a hundred percent done, no. It will eventually be a space station. Relaying the information it gathers to and from the earth takes time, it would be more effective to have someone up there, actively scanning frequencies. Right now it's a skeleton like many things around here. I hired an outside crew to do the main parts, explaining it off as an ex-astronaut billionaire's home away from home." His father laughed at himself. "Lee Taylor and I have been going up once a month or so to install her guts and here in the next year or so get the finishing touches on her." 

"I have to admit, Dad. I'm amazed." 

"You've only seen one ship. Wait till you see what's behind the door." He opened the door to the hanger and guided Virgil through it. They exited into a large cavern that had supports here and there where needed, and littered with various parts and pieces across the main floor below them." 

"Those are the beginnings of One." 

"How are you getting all these parts here? Aren't people getting curious with all the strange deliveries?" 

"We make it all in house." His father beamed. "That was one of the first things Brains thought up. We have an automated manufacturing room, enter the details and it does what it's needed." 

"What about materials?" 

"Fabrication unit. As along as we have the raw material we can make anything." 

"And where do you get the raw material?" 

"Colonel Casey helps with the rarer things, but otherwise through TI." 

"You're Embezzling?" 

"Nah, IR is a subsidiary—"

"Wait, IR?" 

"International Rescue. That's what I'm calling the organization. We'll rescue anyone, anytime, anywhere."

"And it's a subsidiary of TI?"

"Yes, though a bit of a secret one. I wasn't going to be able to fund it out of my pocket, that's for sure." They both laughed a little and then his father was motioning him to follow. "Come, I'll introduce you to Brains." 

They continued through the caverns that wound their way through the extinct volcano and up into a lab where the dark haired scientist was working. "Brains. I'd like you to meet my middle son, Virgil." 

The man turned around, his eyes wide behind his thick glasses. "Virgil, eh? N-nice to meet you."

Virgil took the outstretched hand and shook it. "I've heard a lot of a good things about you. I hope Dad's not too mean of an employer." 

"N-no, not at all. He's letting me do things that o-others would shy away f-from." Brains pulled out a piece of paper from the stack he was working on. "Like this, for example. I've come up with some ways to load and unload Two." 

Virgil looked down at the paper, and frowned. There were some excellent ideas, things he had never even dreamed about, but his engineering mind had already started working some things out. "This idea is good, but you'd have to have some major hydraulics to keep the nose up, and the pilot would be at an awkward angle, wouldn't he?" 

"Y-yes, I have considered that as well. He would have a system similar to that of One." 

"Looks like I've got a lot to catch up on if I'm going to be your assistant." 

"A-assistant?" Brains looked from Virgil to his father and back again. 

"Virgil just graduated. Mechanical engineering, top of his class. Just hired him, thought you'd like some help." 

"Oh, c-congratulations." Brains beamed at Virgil. "I-I can't wait to tell you all of my ideas." 

"How about we let Virgil get settled and think about it a bit." 

"Oh yes of c-course." 

"Come along, time to show you the house."

Virgil followed his father out of the lap and up a tunnel nodding as his father pointed out the infirmary, and a few of the mechanical rooms. They emerged out of a hidden door and into the main house. 

It was large, bright, and decorated just like his father's office had been. "This is the main floor, with the lounge. There'll be some game rooms and a library on the way up to the bedrooms up there." He pointed up through the ceiling and then turned and pointed to a nearby staircase. "Kitchen is down that way." 

"Wow." That was about all Virgil could say. Seeing the house from the plane and the cliff did not do it any justice. It was just wow. "Wait, if you have all of this set up, why was your watch not connecting to your calendar?" 

His father laughed at that. "I hadn't set up the communications at that point. Just a small satellite so that Casey could contact me. I was too busy building the TV-21 with Brains to worry about a permanent solution. That's where Five came in. Or rather, that's what gave me the idea for Five. That's why Three has been built for a while now. Had to have a way of getting a satellite into orbit." 

"I have to admit, I was worried about you, but you really are going to change the world with this." Vigil turned and gave his father a tight hug. "But you're still going to put family first, right? A rescue organization is going to take up a lot of time." 

"That's my motivation in telling you all.It will be completely up to them, and you, but I'd like you all to help." 

Virgil's excitement quickly faded as he stepped away from his father. "You want us to help? I mean, I get me, you hired me after all, but the others? They'd have to quit what their doing now." 

"Yes, I know. That's why I said it was up to them. I won't force them if they want to keep going on the path they already are on. I'll have to find my pilots elsewhere then. Casey has some top candidates already." 

Virgil thought about this for a moment. Thought about the ships and their purposes. It suddenly dawned on him that it was his family that had inspired everything about this. From it's purpose to it's functionality. His smile was back as he turned to look at the view. "I can't say for sure, but that is going to be one hard decision. I don't envy them one bit." 

"So you've made yours?" 

"How could I turn down something like this?" Virgil swept his arm out toward the ocean beyond. "Plus being able to help people, not only with the technology that Brains will be creating—I'm assuming it'll be slowly fed through Tracy Industries for public use?" 

"Very slowly." His father laughed and joined him out in the middle of the room. "Brains is coming up with things that are far beyond what the GDF are even thinking of. Casey was a bit jealous." 

"I'm jealous with what little I saw!" Virgil laughed with him a little, but it quickly faded. "We're going to be saving people who otherwise couldn't have been saved. I couldn't think of anything better to do with my life." 

"I'm glad to hear it. So, which bird are you wanting to pilot?" 

"Bird?" 

"You didn't think I was just calling them by their numbers did you?" 

"I assumed you hadn't thought of a proper name yet." 

"I just recently adapted it, but they're the thunderbirds. Like the old Native American legend." 

"So all of the ships will be super-sonic?"

"Well, not all, that little sub will be fast, but not quite that fast." His father let out a laugh. "So? Which one will it be? Scott's already claimed One. He always did want to fly the fastest plane out there." 

"That does sound like Scott. I think you already know which one I'd choose." 

"True, but I wanted to give you the choice. I've done enough damage trying to force you boys to follow certain paths." 

"Took you long enough." 

"Well, having one son walk out on you tends to hit the point home." His father still had a smile on his face, but it had faded. 

"He'll talk to you again. I bet when he comes back from his stint undersea he won't be able to wait to tell you all he did and learn." 

"I hope." His father walked up to him and put an arm around his shoulder leading him farther out into the room. "So, how do you feel about going down a tube upside down and backwards?" 


End file.
